


For A New World

by psychicdreams



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-17
Updated: 2007-08-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicdreams/pseuds/psychicdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually espionage is Yozak's forte, but this time Gwendal wants to make sure there are no mistakes. Just one problem...why does he have to pretend to be Günter's lover to get the job done?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was no way that Gwendal would ever let what was currently happening ever be known to his friends and more especially, his _mother_. He’d die of mortification, for one. It was bad enough what they’d had to do before, but now he had to stand on the sidelines as if he was some sort of prize. It made an annoying twitch appear under his eye and he glared at the sun, as if he could somehow will it to go away and hide the embarrassment he saw in front of him.

Günter didn’t seem to notice the crowd’s attention for the duel he’d been challenged to. His eyes were focused solely on his opponent. He’d seen this sort of deadly concentration before. Their king, Yuuri, might only know Günter as the light-hearted and loud advisor that was his teacher, but he knew the depths of Günter’s seriousness, especially when it came to battle. And given this knowledge, Gwendal just knew this was going to expose everything.

How did this come to pass? How did a fight break out for his honor? That was a very long and humiliating story.

_Two weeks earlier_

The carriage bumped over a relatively rocky road and Gwendal shifted uncomfortably in his seat for what must be the millionth time since he had gotten in it. “I understand why we have to do this, but remind me _why_ must we pretend to be lovers while we’re here?”

Günter seemed to flush just a little, but his answer was clear and precise. “For protection. Given my appearance, many others might think to take advantage of it.” A violet eye glanced at him briefly. “It’s just for ‘just in case’.”

Gwendal snorted and crossed his arms, turning to glance out the carriage window on his side. “We both know that you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, despite your appearance.”

“They don’t know that and anyway, we’re going as minor diplomats of the court. Given the backgrounds we have created for ourselves, we spent most of our time indoor and doing paperwork and other such physically easy tasks, with only the most minimal of fighting lessons. Not high ranking individuals who spent half their time in military academies and fighting in wars. This is just to make sure that no one tests us in that respect.”

He didn’t say anything more, but couldn’t really say he was all that pleased. In order to create the unified world that their king dreamed of, they had to make sure that every treaty didn’t have a loophole in it. That was fine for the big and relatively small countries, but where the problems lay were with the minor nobles that might or might not agree. They could, theoretically, raise rebellions easily or finance such things.

Which was why they were on their way to spend the next few weeks with one of the more prominent nobles that sat on the border of Shin Makoku. When it came to these things, Gwendal preferred to get a look at someone himself, rather than entrust it to someone even as competent as Yozak. Günter had been brought along, suggested strongly by Yuuri to do so, because he was far friendlier with people than Gwendal was.

The manor house slowly came into view and it looked like a tiny castle. His eyebrows hitched up in slight surprise, as it appeared as if the lord of the place were showing off his wealth. The grounds were well kept and green, flowers seeming to decorate almost every available surface. As soon as the carriage stopped, a servant stepped away from the small congregation waiting for them to open the door.

Gwendal went first and his harsh blue eyes took in everything with minute detail. Before them, were three men of varying ages. The oldest of them had strands of white amid his brown hair and he had a congenial smile on his lips. As far as he could tell at first glance, he didn’t stand out in any way. Standing next to him was someone that reminded him of Wolfram vaguely, with his light blonde hair, only his fell down to his waist. His eyes were a tad icy and suspicious, obviously the perfect counter to the other man who seemed far too welcoming and unassuming. And the youngest, someone who could only be barely over eighteen, had pale, silvery blue hair that one might say almost prettily fell over his forehead.

Gwendal’s eyes landed on who was presumably their host. “Deitrich Hertzog?”

The oldest of the pair stepped forward and eagerly held out his hand. “Good day to you. I assume you are Gwendal von Jaeger?” Gwendal nodded as Günter stepped up next to him. Their host’s eyes held no malice as he turned to the new man and shook his hand firmly as well. “And you must be Günter von Lehrer?”

“I am,” Günter replied with a nod and polite smile.

“Then let me introduce you to the rest of the family.” Deitrich motioned them to follow inside and for all that he was looking for it, Gwendal couldn’t detect any hint of malice or deception. “This is my life-partner here, Viktor von Strauss and my adopted son, Julius.”

The blonde linked his arm with that of Deitrich, making it clear who was who and if he hadn’t known better, he swore he saw suspicion in the hazel eyes that stared at him and then Günter pointedly.

Dietrich didn’t seem to notice the faint stiffening of the atmosphere and continued to chatter on, unlike his son Julius, who seemed painfully shy and wouldn’t even look at Gwendal.

The inside of their manor house seemed just as palatial as the outside and long tapestries instead of paintings hung from the vaulted ceilings down to almost brush the floor. He tried to hide his frown at the expensive tastes and structure of the place, as it did indeed feel like a tiny castle. The knowledge didn’t do much to alleviate his uneasiness with this obviously very rich lord. If he really did decide to go against Shin Makoku, he could no doubt at the very least easily fund a large sized rebellion and it wouldn’t even put a chink in his wealth.

While his attention wandered, his subconscious took in every word of Deitrich’s chatter, who didn’t seem to be able to stop talking. He had always thought Günter to be fairly lucrative when speaking, never seeming to run out of things to say, but compared to Deitrich, Günter seemed almost simplistic and downright silent in his words.

Günter and Deitrich seemed to get along marvelously well and by the time their tour of the manor house ended and they had been shown to their rooms, the two men had covered topics ranging from fine art to politics to the esoteric eating habits of Bear Bees and dragons.

The double doors closed behind them and blessed silence surrounded Gwendal for what felt like a lifetime of noise, which was what he considered Deitrich’s chatter to be. It held no substance. They had arranged to stay for two weeks there and there was no need to rush, he told himself, when all he wanted to do was get it over and done with so he could get back to work on the things that needed to be done back at the castle.

“I don’t think it will be that hard to find out where his politics lie,” Günter commented as he looked out the window and to the back garden below them. “He doesn’t seem inclined to solitude or quietness.”

Günter was very much into his role as a serious scholar and the normally flippant attitude he adopted at the castle was nowhere to be seen. He knew the coldly determined look in those lavender eyes and knew that nothing would be getting in the way Günter’s duty. He reflected more than once on the fact that Günter really did give his all and beyond a hundred percent when Yuuri asked him to.

“I didn’t see anyone suspicious that we passed on the tour,” Gwendal muttered as he set out changing into something for their dinner engagement in half an hour. “And Deitrich Hertzog doesn’t seem the type to fund an insurrection. His lover, on the other hand, is another matter. Viktor has the sharp eyes of thieves, assassins, and spies. The kind that will secretly flit around in the shadows and gently push larger and more blunt forces to face off while they wait around in safety to see who the victor will be.”

“I’m concerned about the son as well,” Günter replied, letting the curtain of the window fall and waiting until Gwendal had finished pulling on his shirt before turning around. “He wouldn’t look at either of us, which could be put down to shyness. However, I didn’t feel very welcome when I was near him.”

Wasn’t that interesting, he thought. The son had never given him that impression. In fact, despite his pretty appearance, he faded away into the background as far as Gwendal was concerned. Someone that was not a mover or a shaker of any sort of political movement. In fact, he was even hard pressed to remember any distinguishing features.

“Change soon,” he said instead and turned to give his companion some privacy. “Dinner will be served in a few minutes and it’s best if we’re not late.”

**_~*~_ **

Dinner seemed to last a lot longer than Gwendal expected it to, but for all that Deitrich was a congenial host, he didn’t feel welcome. The atmosphere back at Blood Pledge Castle during such routine occasions had always felt comfortable despite the antics of his younger brothers and mother and Günter. They had always been lively and if he had to equate a color to them, they would be rich and full, like warm reds and browns. Here, it felt like cold blues and grays, welcoming somewhat but always keeping that faint hint of distance.

His observation skills did not fail him and he began to pick out very distinctive behaviors that characterized their hosts. Deitrich seemed absentminded and no matter what he did, his actions seemed directed by Viktor, who never left his side. He was always laughing and talking and the smile never seemed to leave his face. Given what he’d seen so far, Gwendal had little choice but to write him off as only someone who was interested in peace and the gentle, pretty things in life.

Viktor was another matter. He wielded the ‘authority’ of Deitrich, given that Deitrich always did as he suggested. He also doted almost incessantly on the lord and while he did not doubt the depth of the blonde man’s affection, he also could tell that Viktor was the type of person that would do anything for a cause he believed was just. It wouldn’t take much if Viktor believed in a resistance to get Deitrich to finance in it and believe in it too.

Julius said little and kept his eyes on his plate, proving that he seemed to be painfully shy and quiet, the type that preferred books to living company. He appeared fond of both his surrogate father and ‘mother’, but held a strange sense of detachment to them as well. As if he loved them, but didn’t say what he really thought most of the time. The kind that would say he was fine to them even if he happened to have just coughed up blood less than two minutes before.

Knowing now what to look for, thanks to Günter’s observations that afternoon, he did see the fact that Julius was not exactly fond of the silver haired man. His eyes rarely looked up, but he seemed faintly disapproving. Given that there was no such attitude directed at him, Gwendal could only assume that it was not the relationship they had lied that they’d had that caused such a thing. What it could be though, he had no idea.

So when Gwendal dropped onto his side of the only bed in their room, he had plenty to think about and kept him up later than he liked. Günter seemed lost in contemplation and had no wish to talk, so Gwendal didn’t press him. After all, Günter was older than he was and more versed in court politics than the rather antisocial general was. Maybe he saw things that Gwendal didn’t, but wasn’t sure if they were anything enough to alarm the bigger Mazoku about.

Either way, he figured the next two weeks were going to be quite a test for his patience.  



	2. Chapter 2

The routine didn’t take long to settle and Gwendal found that it was far more of an annoyance than he’d ever thought possible. Back home, he had any number of antics to take care of: Günter, Yuuri, and Wolfram being the chief of his problems. He had long since stopped counting the many times he would hear pounding feet and yelling voices as Wolfram chased Yuuri down one hall and up another for whatever reason or imagined slight his youngest brother thought up at the time.

Then there was Günter on top of that, always shouting at the top of his lungs or wailing with despair when their king skivvied off from lessons yet again. It was during those times, more often than not, Günter came to his office to let out his frustrations, which were usually more wailing and crying. Very rarely, though, Günter would rant and rave in anger. Usually the smaller man wasn’t given to say a bad word about anyone unless he felt particularly strong about it and even then, it was usually said with reluctance, as if it were not right to badmouth someone even if they didn’t like or even hated said person.

However the past few days staying at Dietrich Hertzog’s place changed all that. Gwendal found himself thinking almost _longingly_ for Günter as his usual self, Yuuri, and Wolfram. Surely even idiots like themselves would know common sense and above all, _moderation_.

If there was one thing that Gwendal hated the most, it was court intrigue. Who was courting who, who had an affair with who, who was going to marry who. It all gave him headaches and he disliked it on the most intensive of scales. He didn’t like hearing about someone courting or married to someone else trying desperately to woo an unattached person. It was all dreadfully boring and he felt like banging his head on the wall. Despite the noise and general ineptitude back at Blood Pledge Castle, at least the annoyances were for different, and not so petty, reasons.

Not this. _This_ was terrible.

Gwendal had thought that his observations skills could never fail him, but apparently he was wrong about their host and his lover. Viktor von Strauss was putting his all into wooing Günter despite the fact that he was legally married to Dietrich Hertzog. Günter was masterful in his avoidance of the issue or gentle refusals, just like an expert, but Viktor just didn’t stop.

He had thought that Viktor had unwavering devotion to Dietrich and he would have testified in front of his king with his life at stake that it was so. Considering how he doted on the man, he found it strange that Viktor was at all interested in Günter in a romantic fashion. And he found himself being watched like a hawk by said host at almost all moments of the day despite his constant attendance at Günter’s side. It didn’t help that Julius was a shy, but bright boy and was almost consistently at Gwendal’s side to talk about books and other things that Gwendal was supposed to be knowledgeable on.

It was rare that Gwendal got any moment to himself, which was an absolute necessity. He needed at least some time to himself of peace if he was going to be able to keep up and deal with the insane people around him. It gave him the necessary patience, of which he didn’t have a lot of on a normal day and was in short supply during this mission.

It was as he was in his never ending and futile search for that place of peace where no one would be around that he ran across Viktor, who was for once not in Günter’s company. Oddly enough, he was alone. This made Gwendal all manner of suspicious, especially since he wasn’t sure he could trust his instincts with this man. His first observations were proving untrue with his pursuit of Günter, so he had no idea what to make of that smiling face. He could end up being Shin Makoku’s worst nightmare.

“Ah, von Jaeger! What a surprise. You seem so hard to find even in such a small place as this.”

 _Small place? It’s only one-third less the size of Blood Pledge Castle!_ “Were you looking for me?”

Viktor laughed and it would have been pleasing sound if he hadn’t begun to dislike and distrust the man more than he had already done before. “Well, not specifically, no, but it would be nice to talk to you.” There was a pause and the man continued when Gwendal didn’t say anything. “Obviously your partner is the more social one. I heard someone say something once about a man. He was hopeless with others and had little constructive contact with the world around him. Neither the world nor himself paid the other any mind. And then he married, oddly enough. This woman ended up being the bridge between him and society, allowing him to actually make friends and interact. She was his reason for being. She gave him an existence, gave him a way for others to define him as a person. He often said he was hopeless without her. I’m wondering if Günter is that person for you perhaps?”

Gwendal wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he didn’t. He knew that he was supposed to act like Günter’s lover, to continue with the ruse, but he didn’t really know how. He wasn’t used to being _anyone’s_ lover. Sure, he had dated once or twice, but they always broke up with him when they found that he was the same in dating as he was in every day life. Given that he had no idea how to act as anyone’s lover, how was he supposed to act as _Günter’s_ lover? That sort of person would have to be very special indeed.

It didn’t help that Günter was quite a bit older than him, despite appearances to the contrary, and he knew what a serious and upheld person he was. He wasn’t as shallow as his antics back at the castle appeared. He was a man with a great amount of depth. And through the years, Gwendal had learned something very peculiar about Günter: he trusted people even less than Gwendal did.

Oh, it seemed otherwise to the contrary. He seemed too naïve and too trusting, but Gwendal knew that it was the exact opposite. He was too world-weary, knowledgeable, and far too distrusting. Günter put up the act of an idiot as a deterrent, so that others would not get too close and see his many faceted sides that he hid behind his walls. For those that weren’t fazed and continued to try to get close, he devised other more dangerous traps to mire them in and turn them away when they finally decided it was far too much effort to gain that trust. Gwendal didn’t know if Günter did it unconsciously, out of fear, or just to see how far people would go for him. To see if they kept pushing, kept trying, and showed enough effort and obvious interest in himself to finally allow that trust to be given.

Gwendal saw it happen more times than he could count in his life, ever since he had known Günter. People thought he was easy to approach and talk to, to confide in. What they never realized was Günter’s carefully cultivated persona so that it would be exactly like that and they’d never once realize that Günter never came to them in return when he was upset. Even with Gwendal, who everyone said was the closest to Günter, he knew that the advisor never really _talked_ to him about what upset him. He was a shallow outlet for those frustrations. If anything _seriously_ bothered Günter, upset or hurt him, it was a guaranteed thing that the man would find a place he would be alone to deal with it.

It was vaguely disturbing how well he knew Günter even though Günter treated him the same as everyone else, with the same level of distance. And it was also vaguely upsetting to realize this, though he couldn’t understand why.

During his entire introspection, Viktor had just stood there and watched him. Gwendal coughed a little, unhappy and unsettled by the pointed and intense stare. “Is there something you needed with me?”

Viktor didn’t seem to miss the fact that he didn’t answer the man’s earlier question, but let it slide. “I was just hoping you’d accompany me to find von Lehrer. I saw him go into your room a bit ago, but it wouldn’t be polite even if I am your host to go there by myself.”

He frowned just a little, but shrugged. If that was the attitude, maybe he had been an idiot all this time and could have found that room of peace of mind that he’d been searching for there all the time. He led the way toward their quarters, pushing his introspections into Günter’s character to the back of his mind. He’d never been really close to anyone. It wasn’t like Günter’s complex reasonings of not trusting anyone or for whatever reason he didn’t, but just that he was often too busy and his gruff demeanor kept people away from even trying.

In that, it seemed both him and Günter were evenly matched.

It was, in retrospect, probably a good idea to knock instead of just opening the door. Perhaps it was because he was used to no one being in his room back at the castle that it just never occurred to him to do so. So when he merely stood in the doorway and stared, he felt he was justified to his stupefied reaction. He didn’t even notice Viktor watching him like a hawk and sparing Günter little attention.

Günter was naked.

Well, perhaps not _fully_ naked, but when he wore only a white shirt that reached his calves, he still counted that as naked. Automatically, the man jerked his shirt down in front of his crotch and blushed right to his hairline and the whole pose made an alarming tightening in his chest.

“I should excuse myself,” Viktor stated, as if there hadn’t been a pause when he’d stared and watched Gwendal’s reaction. “I didn’t think you meant you would be changing immediately, Günter.”

The door was shut and the two were alone and Gwendal managed to finally turn away and just in time. His stunned shock was fading and what he had seen had finally hit him, causing himself to blush brightly. He couldn’t help it. He’d blushed just at the thought of Anissina suggesting that he kiss the crown that had been stuck on Günter’s head. Now he was confronted with the same man, only half-naked this time.

And there was no mistake that Günter was stunningly beautiful. Though he tried to banish the mental image imprinted on his brain from what he’d seen, he could not help noticing that Günter’s skin was still as pale and smooth on his legs as his neck and face. That he was slender in just the right ways and that his first automatic urge for modesty even though he’d been covered enough, barely enough but enough, had been sexy, disturbing, and erotic.

“I’m dressed now.”

When he turned around, he saw that Günter was frowning. “What is it?”

“This isn’t good.”

Somehow he didn’t think this was about the fact that Gwendal had saw him half naked. “What isn’t?”

“Your reaction wasn’t what it should have been.” Günter sat down on a nearby chair and his frown deepened. And it was at this moment that Gwendal realized just how far apart they really were. Günter had the aura of teacher, scholar, and elder. It made him feel how really young he actually was, despite that sometimes he felt so old.

“Granted, I can’t blame you. You weren’t prepared for it at all, and your acting while good, is not the best. It’s not surprising that you couldn’t think fast enough on your feet to salvage it. Now there will be suspicions that we aren’t the lovers we claim. Viktor was already vaguely unconvinced about it before, but I’m afraid that belief may have been cemented. After all, we don’t really _act_ like lovers and we’re rarely together.”

Gwendal turned away, trying not to feel vaguely upset at Günter’s words, though he couldn’t tell why. “I’m always like this. I don’t know how to be anyone’s lover. I’m just me. Besides, I think anyone would have that reaction coming in and seeing you wearing only a shirt that barely reached your thighs.”

Günter flushed a little, barely, something that Gwendal caught out of the corner of his eye. It was one of those reactions that made him think that it was a true one, not a faux one that he would put up at the castle, and given that it was so muted, he thought that it was also one that the other man was trying to hide.

“I also think that Viktor set that up to really see if we were lovers. He has hinted as much lately that he doesn’t believe we are and pressing me for more and more details about our relationship. We’re going to have to take drastic measures to rectify this, especially since we’re being watched almost always.”

Gwendal’s fist came down on the desk next to the door where he still stood and couldn’t help feeling fiercely unhappy about something and not knowing what it was. And that made him even more irritable. “This not what we came here for!”

Günter’s stare was unreadable and almost foreign to Gwendal. He knew that Günter wasn’t the light airhead he appeared to be, despite his spastic behavior, but that didn’t change the fact that he rarely saw this serious side. And after so many years of seeing silly behavior, he thought it didn’t suit Günter at all. He actually liked him rather flailing and being an idiot, since it made him feel like one of them actually had something of substance to their rather colorless lives. It almost horrified him that he realized he liked it to some extent when Günter would rush to his office and sob that Yuuri had skipped out again on their lessons and generally act like a fool. He had realized what comfort that gave him.

“What we came here for is settled. Dietrich Hertzog is not the kind of person who would finance a rebellion or even know what one was. He is very happy about Shin Makoku’s new policies, he told me so himself, and said his only wish now is to meet the king in person one day to personally thank him for ending such a stressed situation with Mazoku and humans.”

“What about Strauss? I don’t trust him, he has the man wrapped around his finger, and he is the kind that would finance a rebellion if he wanted to.”

“I’m less worried about Viktor than I am about the son.”

“Julius? Why?” he asked in sheer perplexity.

“Every time we speak, I sense a barely concealed hostility, despite his shyness. If there were an order to things, it would be this: Julius has Viktor wrapped around his finger. If Julius wants something, Viktor will do anything to get it done. Then Viktor will go to Dietrich and since Viktor has Dietrich in the palm of his hand, it would be simple to get that thing done. Julius is the most powerful of the three. Always the quiet ones as they say.”

He honestly didn’t quite agree with Günter about Julius, but as was proven by Viktor, obviously his instincts weren’t serving him at their greatest capacity.

\---

Dinner was hardly any less stressful. Viktor kept watching Günter and Gwendal and Gwendal did finally begin to notice that at first was very concealed, was not so anymore. Julius did _not_ like Günter. And yet at the same time, he treated Gwendal with something bordering on reverence. Halfway through the meal, Dietrich excused himself to rest in his chambers from a headache and the four were left alone.

It was a tense situation.

Even when he and the advisor went back to their room, he could feel the eyes on them. They were being observed even more closely, probably due to Günter’s conjectures. Like he had said, they had to do something very noticeable to confirm about their relationship and it had to be soon.

He just had no idea how to do that.

“Gwendal, come here.”

Gwendal looked up and finished taking off his jacket before doing as he said. Günter was by the window, watching as the last rays of the sunset began to seep below the horizon. Oddly enough, Günter’s voice was soft and whispery, like a mythical fairy. The fading light bathed him in ethereal colors and he looked as if he would just fly away at any moment.

“What is it?”

Günter turned his head and he would have sworn that Günter looked so beautiful and shy. He stiffened when a hand slowly slid up the outside of his arm and would have moved away had Günter’s voice not stopped it. Though it held a now sultry tone to its low volume, his words were like a bucket of ice cold water poured over his head. “They’re watching to make sure and given this afternoon, it would seem strange if nothing happened tonight. They can’t hear the words, probably muffled, if you keep your voice low.”

“You’re not suggesting what I think you are,” Gwendal retorted, forcing his voice low and trying to sound as a lover would during foreplay. Günter had leaned his head on his shoulder and his hand had finally found Gwendal’s hair and pulled out his hair band.

“It’s acting, Gwendal. We’re going to put on a little play for them. Smoke and mirrors is all it is. I’ll teach you, tell you what you need to do, so it’s okay. This will destroy any suspicions they have and confirm it.”

He didn’t know if he could really act this out. Sure, Günter was beyond beautiful, and possibly given the right stimulus, he could react, but he was not in love with his friend. He in fact didn’t like this at all. Like Günter had said, acting was not his strong point and he was most notably _not_ an exhibitionist.

“Put your arms around me and kiss me.”

But he did as instructed despite his better judgment. If Günter said this was needed, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He’d been gritting his teeth and bearing this whole insufferable situation for a week now, he supposed he could go with this too. He knew that in those plays, such scenes were always acted. Smoke and mirrors, like Günter said. There was never anything _really_ happening between the two people, just the acting to convince you it was.

The kiss was cold and though Günter’s tongue urged his mouth open, it was not full of passion. It was very much like a teacher and student, devoid of warmth, and with a barrier. It was hard to keep up the ruse when it was like that, and yet it was also so easy at the same time.

“Take off my shirt and let your hands wander,” Günter whispered against his lips and Gwendal knew what it was supposed to look like. He tried to keep his hands steady, to appear seductive and he had to admire Günter’s acting skill. It was top-par, almost convincing _him_ that they were about to have sex and that Günter loved him.

“Forgive me,” he whispered in the advisor’s ear, suddenly feeling guilt ridden. Though they wouldn’t be having sex, it still bothered him. To touch someone, to allow someone else to touch you, when there was not a shred of romantic feelings, was somehow so wrong. What if he were Günter’s first everything? First kiss, first touch…that would torment him knowing he had given his friend, someone as close to a friend to Günter could be anyway, such a cold first time.

Günter looked vaguely surprised, and then for a moment, Gwendal thought Günter let him in. To see that reassuring and soft smile Günter showed just for him for those few precious seconds. He thought he actually saw the real Günter, sweet and slightly shy, but ready to shower someone he cared about with more love than they knew existed. “It’s okay,” he whispered back. “You don’t need to worry and leave the acting to me. Just look like you want this.”

Their shirts off, shoes kicked aside, Günter was leading him to the bed and pulling them onto it. Slim arms hugged Gwendal close and lips tucked near his ear, murmuring, “Drag the covers over. I put two pairs of pants that are like ours under the sheets so you can toss them out and make it seem like we’re naked. In this darkness, they probably won’t notice the difference. Just silhouettes and a little more detail.”

Gwendal once again did as told without a word, despite feeling like there was a lump of ice in his chest. Automatically, he let his lips wander down that slim neck and before he stopped himself, he had actually left a small hickey on that tempting shoulder. He wanted to apologize, but Günter was mumbling in his ear that that was okay. That it was good.

And damn that teacher-like tone that constantly reminded him that this wasn’t real. It bothered him for again, a reason he couldn’t name.

“Hands under the sheets.”

He dipped them out of sight and felt a shiver go down his spine as Günter’s fake mews turned into cries, as if he were actually touching him so intimately. As if he were…preparing him. The thought made him blush and he thanked the darkness of the room and probably their spies limited view that it would never be seen. Günter should get an award for his acting, because it was just that convincing.

“I realize that you’re generally stoic, Gwendal dear, but could you make _some_ noises to add to the acting so it seems like you like this too?”

The faint amusement in his tone, like a teacher suggesting something helpful while trying to hide how funny they found something, bugged him even more and he let out a rather loud growl, something that was actually real and fueled by irritation, and gripped the sheets under the covers tightly.

Günter’s voice made a dip, something between a breathy gasp and a cry, and he once again tried to hide his wince. This was stretching all his acting ability and determination. He wanted to leave the bed and take a warm shower, because where he was at now was so icy cold. So detached beyond anything he’d ever imagined. Even prostitutes, he imagined, would show more warmth than Günter was right then.

“Start moving your hips like you’re thrusting into me,” Günter instructed and Gwendal was very glad they could only hear the fact that they were murmuring to each other and not the words, because that would just give it away. And though it turned him a brilliant shade of red, he did so, with just a slight bit of hesitation.

When their hips touched, he buried his face into the pillow beneath Günter and had to force himself to keep moving. Günter’s acting amazed him yet again, because with the sounds he made and the way he said Gwendal’s name made him almost believe yet again that he actually felt it. As if they were actually having sex.

The friction was causing an inadvertent reaction in _both_ of them. Günter was beautiful and his cries were only unfortunately fueling this reaction. He gritted his teeth so tight his jaw and head hurt and loathed it when Günter told him to speed up the pace. It didn’t help that the breathy tone of voice actually was real. He could feel the growing bulge in Günter’s pants and it had nothing to do with their lack of romantic feelings for each other.

He was thankful for when a few minutes later, though it seemed like an eternity, Günter told him that their ‘climax’ would be coming. He forced a low growl out of his throat, sounding like Günter’s name, when he was supposed to, and Günter arched beautifully against him.

Arms went around his shoulders and urged him to stay put until they finally felt the eyes of their spies leave. For better or worse, their lie about their relationship was now cemented. The moment they were gone, Gwendal rolled off and sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the advisor.

“You don’t have to be ashamed, you know. It’s a natural reaction, given the movement of our hips.” When Gwendal didn’t respond to his comforting but slightly detached tone, Günter stood. “I’m going to the bath.”

It was probably done for the both of them to “relieve” themselves of the pressure, but Gwendal had no want to do so, even when he was alone. He dropped his head in his hands and shivered at how cold that bed had been. He had always entertained the passing thought that Günter would be a passionate lover. Was that a true glimpse of how it would be or was that just a side effect of Günter’s above-board and convincing acting?

What _did_ he think about what they’d just done?


	3. Chapter 3

So that what led up to where Gwendal currently was, stewing in mortification. It had depressingly turned out to be far _less_ complicated than he’d ever thought. He had been thinking Viktor’s behavior would entail something on a much larger scale, of rebellions and wars and political intrigue.

Not a love triangle.

_The morning assaulted his closed eyelids with little care for the fact that his sleep was hardly restful. He’d gone to bed, willing his half-hard erection to go away, and tried to sleep. Günter had tiptoed in and slipped on the other side of the bed to sleep, a few strands of damp, light purple hair somehow falling against Gwendal’s pillow. Just his mere presence had been enough, in light of the night’s events, to keep him up until the wee hours of the morning._

_If he’d expected the day to end up much like the rest, with a breakfast that was like every other, he should have known it would end up the exact opposite. Every expectation he had when he was staying in this place had always ended up shattered and he scrambling for purchase in an unknown sea._

_Dietrich appeared better after having retired early the day before and as usual, his meaningless chatter bombarded against that of Günter’s. He couldn’t honestly tell if Günter was interested at all in what their host was saying, but if he wasn’t, he did a very good job of showing that he was. It was as if they were in their own little world._

_It was Viktor’s behavior that hinted to Gwendal that something strange was going on. He was paying absolutely no attention to either himself or Günter, when usually he would be focused on at least one of them. And Julius hadn’t even arrived until twenty minutes in. Dietrich worried and asked why he had been late, but the son didn’t even look at his father._

_No, he merely challenged Günter to a dual._

The intricacies of how one actually did so were still burningly fresh in his mind, given Yuuri’s inept behavior and the relatively recent fight with Elizabeth, Raven’s niece, over Wolfram. The only argument he had with this was that Günter knew exactly what each and every gesture meant and knew which to pick up.

In truth, it was nothing less than beautiful and completely humiliating. He could see Günter’s mind lightning quick on all the possibilities and Gwendal could only watch in horror as those lithe, pale fingers accepted the challenge to fight.

Over Gwendal, as he was, apparently, Julius’ ‘love-at-first-sight’. Viktor had explained with a smile that he wanted tear to shreds that Julius had asked him to find out how deep their relationship went and upon finding out that they really were together, had decided for the direct approach, despite his shyness.

Gwendal closed his eyes, the afternoon sun burning down on all the participants in the courtyard. Viktor had pulled him aside and had confided to him that for all his shyness, Julius was an excellent swordsman. Consternation had filled Gwendal’s whole being then, despite the fact that there was a sincere apology in Viktor’s eyes.

On the whole, now that the whole fiasco was in the open, Viktor was a whole lot friendlier.

Dietrich had been oblivious as usual about his son’s feelings, but then perhaps that was why Viktor and Dietrich worked so well together. Dietrich was not the smartest, at least in the common sense and observation departments, but it was tempered by open warmth for everyone. That in turn dulled Viktor’s sharp mind, eyes, and tongue until they truly appeared to create one being when they were together.

A headache began pounding at the back of his brain, and with the hot sun, he figured too much thinking caused it. Or perhaps just sheer irritation that he was caught in a love scandal, which was one of the things he hated most. It was the first time in his life he was ever the one fought over and he decided then and there that he was not eager to repeat the performance. All in all, it was _Günter_ that seemed the type to be fought over, not himself.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a shock to him if it were the other way around. If he were the one challenged, it wouldn’t be quite as bad. He wouldn’t like it, but he could _understand_ it, since Günter was down-and-out, as their king would say, pretty. But _him_?

The sharp sound of steel clanging together got his attention. The duel had started and as he watched, he hoped that he was the only one that noticed that Günter was in complete control of the fight. With his military detachment, he studied each of Julius’ moves and Günter’s responding ones. Julius was a competent swordsman, but that was all he was. Günter was reigning in most of his expertise to preserve their alias and he was still a hundred times better.

Their mission together had shown Gwendal more sides and abilities of his companion than he’d ever given much thought to being there. Günter was putting on a fine show that he was only Julius’ mediocre level and having a hard time fending him off, when Gwendal knew that in reality, Günter could disable Julius in one blow while barely even taking two steps forward.

Leap, parry, twist, strike, parry again. The only sound around the fighters and spectators were that of the swords clanging fiercely under the afternoon’s rays. Even holding back ninety percent of his strength, Günter still somehow managed to make his counterstrikes a perfect dance. Each step, each movement, was just another continuation of a performance that was the epitome of graceful.

Used to a rather _un_ graceful Günter back at the castle, it was a bit startling.

Julius was tiring, he could see. The way that his movements were slowed just a little, how the sword seemed to feel just a little bit heavier, and his strikes heavier versus his light speed he used to have. His eyes snapped to Günter in response and though he appeared to be the same, Gwendal could see it was all acting. This wasn’t even enough to give someone like Günter a workout.

Wolfram habitually said in one of the few prideful moments for his half-brother, that Conrad was the best soldier and swordsman in Shin Makoku. And though Gwendal did not doubt his younger brother’s skill, he privately thought that if Günter ever came out of his retirement as the King’s Aide, he would outstrip even Conrad. It had nothing to do with the fact that Günter was older than even Gwendal, which always brought a question as to just _how_ old he was. No, Günter had an innate talent that was rare even among those in Shin Makoku.

The fight was winding down, but Gwendal had learned over the past week that for a mission, Günter would do almost anything to accomplish it, up to and including faking sex. He tried not to wonder, or even think, if Günter would go farther, do the actual deed, if it meant success for Yuuri and Shin Makoku.

He could see it in the arm and leg muscles that suddenly tensed. Though his face was plastered with concentration, as if the move was so difficult to pull off, Gwendal knew that it was child’s play for Günter.

His sword clashed with Julius’, but instead of pulling away like before, he shifted his arms and it ran along the opposing edge with a high-pitched screeching sound that caused Julius to wince. He took advantage of that one-second moment of inattention, which was like a lifetime of time for Günter, and spun around with a flash of hair. The sun glinted off the metal, making it seem like it was on fire, as he brought it down and bit just slightly into Julius’ neck. Just enough to make it clear that he won and yet not enough to draw blood.

“Yield?”

Julius’ expression looked murderous for a moment that he had lost and that told Gwendal all he needed to know about the boy. All the things he had never known, never figured out, were suddenly clear. Despite his shyness, he was prideful of his skills. No doubt, he’d never believe he would ever lose, even if he were slim and built for speed.

“No,” came the whispered voice, defiance soaking the tone like a rag in oil.

Gwendal stiffened. Günter had to know as well as he did that there was no way it could be allowed that Julius would ever win the duel. In fact, Gwendal refused to let it happen that way. Even if he had to break their covers, he refused. It was not that he particularly hated Julius, nor that Günter really didn’t have a reason to fight over him since they were not in love, but that if Julius did win, he’d want him to stay here or come with him when he went back to Blood Pledge Castle. Then their ruses would be over anyway. Besides, he had no feelings for Julius whatsoever; neither hate nor love. Nothing was there at all.

“I will not give him up, ever.” His eyebrows hitched up in surprise at the conviction in Günter’s voice, as if he really was love-stricken with Gwendal. “He needs me and I need him. I understand what motivates him. I know what he thinks when he sees any given object. He is undemanding of his partners, never asking them to change to suit him. His honor and grace is unwavering, his devotion unmatched. If he believes in something, he will believe in it even if he has to lay down his life to do so. With him, I can be myself. I can relax. I don’t have to even talk if I don’t want to. He’ll never press me. He respects me for what I am. He accepts everything about me and though he thinks more than he’ll ever say, I know that he won’t pry unless I’m in danger of harming myself.”

Julius listened quietly, but his mouth was twisted with unhappiness. “That doesn’t mean you love him to the extent you will do anything for him. It doesn’t mean you can’t live on without him. It doesn’t mean you love him like I love him!”

Günter’s eyes narrowed with sharp glints at the finishing scream of the younger boy and Gwendal did not mistake that look. He’d seen it only once or twice before, but that was a very dangerous sign. It meant that he was angry, very angry, most likely because Julius was making light of his words. Gwendal himself did not doubt the words and he began to wonder if they were true.

It had nothing to do with love. In fact, all he had said could be taken into context of just their relationship in general, whatever that was. Was that how Günter truly saw him? Everything he had said was true, but what was perhaps the most surprising thing to Gwendal was that _Günter_ knew it was true. He’d never thought that Günter had watched him enough, learned enough about him, to know all of what he said. He’d never been aware of it, never noticed he’d been watched with such attention.

He’d never thought that despite the fact that Günter never really seemed to open up to him, he was comfortable with Gwendal’s presence. Did Günter know that he had watched him with the same amount of attention? Did Günter know that he figured out just how distrusting he was and how closed off inside? Did Günter know that he knew his silly flailing was a façade to hide something? Probably. Günter was one of the most observant people he knew.

Gwendal lost track of their conversation for a few minutes while he’d been lost in his thoughts and only came back just in time to see Günter turn on his heel and march over to him. Curiously he watched Günter come so close that their breaths were one being and sharp, lavender eyes were staring into his. The sword was planted in the ground point first and slim fingers reached up to cup his face. By then, Gwendal had figured out what he was going to do.

And yet despite that, he was still surprised. Not at the action, but how _different_ it felt from the night before. Perhaps he put more acting into it since it was the light of day and others would notice if it wasn’t full of meaning, but this time…

It was more than warm, it was hot. It was exactly the opposite of last night, like a living flame against his lips. This time, even if it _was_ acting, Gwendal was caught completely. He didn’t know if it was or wasn’t anymore. All he knew was the power in that kiss was melting his insides and his arms had automatically wrapped around the lithe, shorter figure before him.

Instead of pulling away, Günter deepened it, pushing his tongue in to taste the cavern of Gwendal’s mouth. A faint, completely involuntary moan escaped and his arms jerked tighter around Günter. Gwendal had completely forgotten about their audience as he responded, the passion in Günter causing him to reply in kind with the same amount. Fingers twined in lavender strands of hair and he had never realized how soft it really was until then.

The need to breathe was the only thing that forced Gwendal to break their lips apart. Compared to that kiss, the air was frosty cold and it was that that broke through his unintended passion. His eyes questioned Günter almost frantically, but his expression was the same as always and for once, he was thankful that he wasn’t used to expressing emotions. After all of Günter’s hard work to maintain their roles, he didn’t want to be the one to destroy it.

Günter shifted his head down to stare at Gwendal’s shoulder and told the stunned young man, “No matter how many times, I’ll fight you. I’ll fight for _him_. I need him.” A faint smirk, one that was smug and that left Gwendal floored, appeared. He’d never, _ever_ seen Günter smirk. “And there’s one thing you don’t know about me.” Their eyes met and this time it was like Günter was speaking straight to him. “When I find what I need, I never ever let it go.”

In the silence that followed, Gwendal had no idea what was acting and what wasn’t anymore.  



	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t even have to hear the footsteps to know he was walking down the hall nearby. Though he was at a distance, he didn’t need to see it to know that his deep blue eyes were staring straight ahead with his usual fixed determination and his attention wavered from nothing. The steel, cable-gray of his hair tried to look as stern as the rest of him, but was in reality softer than even the cotton Gwendal used to stuff his plushies with.

His body was that of a bear, shoulders huge and broad, chest a depth rarely even seen in men. The way he walked made it quite clear what kind of man he was, each step firm and rather heavy against the stone floor. It hinted at a man set in his beliefs and willing to do anything to uphold them. Despite the fact that it clashed somewhat with the blue of his eyes, his hunter green uniform set off his hair at the right color and hugged his muscular form in just the right ways.

Every physical description, he thought as Gwendal turned a corner and disappeared out of sight, were deceiving. The only thing that hinted at his personality was that of his hair. The soft feeling, as if it were cared for tenderly every morning, suggested that he wasn’t as cold as he appeared. And yet, no one would ever get close enough to ever actually touch it to know this.

In truth, he understood every one of Gwendal’s signals and what they meant. He’d watched him enough to know what every twitch under his eye referred to. He appeared gruff and perhaps even Gwendal thought that he himself had little more to offer, but he knew that wasn’t true. The image of Gwendal kneeling in front of Yuuri after Huber had attacked the king was burned into his memory. He had been willing to lay down his life if Yuuri had demanded it to make up for the dishonor. He believed in his king, in his role, and in his country. If there was anyone that had unimpeachable honor, it was Gwendal von Voltaire. And at the same time, he was perhaps the most fragile.

Günter hadn’t needed to touch his hair to know this. Of all three brothers, ironically enough, the most vulnerable of them was the one that looked like the most inpenetrable. Conrad was easy-going and relaxed enough that even insults washed off him. He took things in stride and accepted them as they were. Wolfram ranted and raved when something happened to him, but he also knew that despite looks to the contrary, the boy was as tough as nails. He remembered distinctly Wolfram’s actions when following a kidnapped Murata Ken and Yuuri when the boxes had first been uncovered.

Gwendal didn’t have many try to come close to him, so he accepted far more than he should. Anissina was his childhood friend and possibly the closest to understand Gwendal than Günter himself. Even Yuuri had absolutely no understanding of him, was slightly afraid of him, when Günter knew that of the three brothers, he was the most gentle, even over Conrad. Never would Gwendal raise his hand to hit anyone outside of battle. He’d never kill a spider and he’d be one that babies would smile at. He’d never seen a baby look at Gwendal and cry. In fact, most _stopped_ crying at his appearance. And when Yuuri wasn’t there, Greta was always with Gwendal.

No, he was, with the possible exception of Anissina, the only one who knew this. Not even Conrad, as perceptive as he was, was aware of anything of any depth to his brother. Günter was very aware that he was not the type that Gwendal had for a friend naturally, so he had taken his time, a _long_ time, to observe Gwendal and had wormed his way into the younger man’s life before anyone had ever realized it until he became a fixture and it never occurred to Gwendal to send him away.

Günter smiled, a secret one for all the knowledge he held and for all the plans he had. Gwendal had told him on the way back to Blood Pledge Castle that he hadn’t known what was acting and what hadn’t been anymore by the time it was over and it had taken Günter all his willpower not to tell him that you couldn't act something if you didn’t have something to base it on.

Then again, he thought as he went back to his never ending paperwork, acting was never all truth or all lie. It all came down to _interpretation_.

\---

Gwendal had been watching closely and the moment their carriage rolled back into Blood Pledge Castle, it was like a thick wall had come down around his companion. Günter had leapt from the coach, calling for their king in his standard, high-pitched voice and pelted inside. He was more convinced than ever now that he knew nothing about Günter at all. Whenever he thought he reached a certain conclusion, Günter would do something that would completely negate that.

He sighed, bringing his thoughts back from when they had arrived back home a week ago. Anissina had commandeered him almost immediately for his absence and he had spent most of the week trapped in her observatory with her wretched experiments. At least she had kept her antics to a minimum and the castle had been intact when they’d come back, which was the only thing one could hope for when dealing with his childhood friend.

Things were the same as before they’d left and yet for Gwendal, it felt off. He was positive he was the only one feeling that there was something not quite right, but he had no idea what the problem was. Günter was Günter again, like he had wished for when they’d been gone. Yuuri and Wolfram continued to give him headaches with their arguments. Sure, there was something new that involved Conrad and Yozak slipping off to Shinou knew where without a word, but even that felt natural when he thought about it. So _what_ exactly had changed?

Himself. In a moment of introspection, that answer had blindsided him. His outlook had changed and when he thought back on to what he was seeing differently, it was Günter and those around him. He watched even closer to how Yuuri reacted to Günter’s enthusiastic ideas and what response Günter would give at any given answer. And yet what he saw made no sense, as if Günter was aware he was watching him and was purposefully confusing him.

He dismissed that idea instantly. If Günter knew he had been observed by Gwendal before and hadn’t cared, why would he care now? Günter didn’t treat him any differently now than he did before their acted sex, so why was it still…and he’d found the core of the problem, he realized. Their acted sex still bothered him though it was long over and it didn’t seem to have even caused Günter to blink in a wrong way.

So why was he still bothered about it? He hadn’t thought it would be like him to be so…sensitive. He’d had sex once or twice before, even if it had been with women, so that wasn’t it. Maybe what bothered him was Günter himself, how he had let that happen and had even taken control. Considering that Günter went into fits at Yuuri and Wolfram sharing a bed without doing anything, he had always thought that Günter had been a virgin. Günter was always complaining about sex before marriage, so he had always assumed that that belief extended to the man’s own personal life.

What if it hadn’t? For some reason, the thought of Günter being so ‘free’ with his attentions caused Gwendal a few heart palpations. It wasn’t that he was in love, but that Günter _was_ as close to a friend as anyone ever got to Gwendal and he feared what would happen if that were true. There were many obsessive people out there and though he was aware Günter could take care of himself in a fight, what if one of his partners weren’t…clean?

Gwendal wanted to bang his head against the desk repeatedly. He was being absolutely and utterly silly. Günter was unlikely to be the kind of…loose man he had been thinking about. Even if he knew nothing about the advisor, he would trust in that. Günter knew enough to take care of himself and what he chose to do was his own business and had nothing to do with Gwendal.

And that was his attitude as he forced himself back to work.

\---

“A ball?” Yuuri repeated, somewhat in horror at dinner at Günter’s bright, smiling suggestion. “What for?”

“For your birthday! It’s coming up, isn’t it? The whole kingdom would love to celebrate your birth, I’m positive on that! We must celebrate it!”

“Uh…but…I’ve never had a party for my birthday before,” he tried to interject but Günter continued on, completely ignoring him, about all sorts of dances that he’d have to learn and who they would invite.

Yuuri looked helplessly at Conrad who unsuccessfully tried to divert Günter’s enthusiasm onto something else. Wolfram was no use and only shrugged when Yuuri prodded him to do something. And in an act of desperation, he turned to Gwendal. Gwendal and Günter were almost always together discussing _something_ , probably work since that was what Gwendal seemed most fond of. _Surely_ he knew something that would get Günter off the whole ‘ball’ idea, which didn’t sound the same thing as a ‘party’ he would be at all interested in.

Especially since his mother had insisted he spend his birthday at home with his ‘friends’ accompanying him. It was going to be mayhem at the very least and the thought of having to break it to his mother that he couldn’t go because he had a ball in his honor would be a hundred times worse that he’d rather just have the mayhem instead.

Gwendal’s gaze locked with his own and Yuuri did his best to get his wish across. Of all three brothers, the one he spent the least amount of time with was Gwendal. Sure they’d been thrown together for a long amount of time with the Geigen Huber incident, but they hadn’t ever really talked after that. He wasn’t sure Gwendal would even pick up what he wanted him to do.

But he hadn’t given Gwendal enough credit, because apparently the older Mazoku knew immediately what he wanted and sighed. “Günter,” came his deep voice, that hint of commanding and slightly frightening resonance, and slashed through Günter’s tenor easily.

Günter blinked in surprise, as did everyone else but Yuuri, and looked at the oldest son. “Yes?”

“His Majesty doesn’t want a ball for his birthday.”

“Really?” Günter’s crestfallen look turned back to Yuuri, as if pleading for confirmation and hoping he wouldn’t say it. Yuuri himself wanted to just either hit his head on the wall repeatedly or bludgeon Gwendal to death. If he had wanted that said, he would have said it himself. He didn’t want to hurt Günter’s feelings, just a distraction so the other man would forget.

“W-Well, Mom really wants me home for my birthday and she kinda wanted me to bring you all with me for a small, uh, party. And I think she’d kill me if I told her that I couldn’t go home because of a ball.”

Günter’s countenance quickly lightened at the thought of seeing Yuuri’s mother again and though the rest of meal went by quickly, Yuuri was still irritated. So when Gwendal disappeared almost instantly after the meal was done, he rushed after him to catch him. The shadows in the corridor were even darker as the sun had just finished sliding down over the horizon and made the meeting look clandestine.

“Gwendal!”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t have to say it like that! I just wanted you to distract him!”

Gwendal turned around fully and Yuuri couldn’t help the instinctive fear that he felt when such a big man towered over him. Günter, Conrad, Wolfram, Cecilie, and Anissina had assured him that Gwendal would never hurt him, but it didn’t stop the instinctive urge to step back.

“I realize that you don’t like to hurt people’s feelings, Your Majesty, but if you don’t learn to come out and say what you want to Günter, you’re only making things worse. He’s trying his hardest to make you a confident king and if you can’t say what you want to Günter, how can you assert yourself with other nations? This is his whole idea behind all of his suggestions, even if he _knows_ you don’t like them.”

“He…he knows I don’t…?”

The general sighed. “Of course he knows. He probably knows everything about you. Günter isn’t an idiot and he’s an excellent observer. He probably knows more about you than you know yourself. He uses these wants and also dislikes to push you into becoming something more than you are. What you are right now, despite what you’ve done, is not a king. You have the great potential to be one and your actions with Soushu are commendable, but they were done by luck rather than expertise. By molding you into something more, to becoming a king, Günter is teaching you how to protect yourself so you won’t have to rely on luck because the moment you do, it will desert you.”

“I had no idea you knew him so well…” Yuuri stuttered, floored and feeling like a fool for not even noticing anything about Günter. He had always just _assumed_ …

“I don’t,” Gwendal answered flatly and studied Yuuri’s downcast expression. “Nobody does.”

In the even deeper darkness behind the two Mazoku, a watching figure smiled at Gwendal’s awkward, verbal attempt to make Yuuri feel better and walk away to his own chambers. “So caring.” Such a vulnerable and rare creature as Gwendal deserved all the protection he could give it.

With that thought in mind, Günter decided it was time to go to sleep and left silently, their king still standing there blinking in surprise at Gwendal’s words.  



	5. Chapter 5

It was almost two months after Yuuri’s birthday that what they assumed was just a particularly virile strain of the flu broke out among the populous. Life at the castle had been proceeding as it usually had, even if Gwendal had become more introverted than usual. He seemed slightly disgruntled as the days went on, but refused to speak of what bothered him. When their king would divert to Günter to ask what could possibly bother the bigger man, Günter could only shrug.

They didn’t give the illness much thought. Yuuri had become increasingly swamped with tasks only he could do and many countries were pushing for something more impressive from the Maou. As if uniting much of world and destroying Soushu hadn’t been enough. Greta, as a growing child, was given to fits of mood swings to show she was heading toward her years as a teenager.

There were very few relaxed moments in the castle as more and more work was tacked on. Exhaustion seemed a friendly companion for everyone and even the three talkative maids had been too busy to gossip and make bets, as was their usual wont. Much to Gwendal’s dismay, everyone’s attentions had been taken inward toward the business of the castle and weren’t looking past their borders at what threats might or might not arise.

When the flu reached the castle from the outskirts of Shin Makoku, not many noticed at first. It was easy to assume that the stress from increasingly busy and complicated work had worn the victims down and that they would be fine in a few days. Even normally suspicious Gwendal could find nothing out of the ordinary about it.

The only one that began to suspect something was wrong was, oddly enough, Gisela when the flu didn’t even look to be lessening after a week’s time. Perhaps Gwendal thought he shouldn’t have been surprised, since she was one of the best healers that Shin Makoku had seen next to Julia.

She had dragged her father and Gwendal down to one of her patient’s rooms, trying to instill in them the suspicions she had in herself. Gwendal frowned when he took a long look down at the figure on the bed. He had once been a young man, who he would assume had been healthy at one point, but now he looked like little more than the wraith of a man. Gaunt barely described what he saw and though he didn’t see any other unnaturalness like sores or pustules, he knew that the flu, even a virile strain, didn’t do this.

He listened out of one ear to what Gisela was saying, but he wasn’t a healer so it didn’t make much more sense than a surface explanation. He cut in finally as she was continuing on about how one of her other patients had come down with a nasty rash under his armpits to ask, “How many have been afflicted so far?”

“In the castle, only three at present.”

Gwendal frowned. “I can see and understand your concern, Gisela, but if it’s only three people sick right now, I don’t see the need to alarm the whole castle over it. You said that healing magic was working.”

Gisela gave him a frown of her own. “A _little_ , yes, but it’s barely making a dent. For what little we help, within half a day, it’s twice as bad as it was _before_ we did anything. And I hate to say it, but these people are going to die at this rate. This is _not_ the flu.”

“We’re not saying it is,” Günter replied, soothing but a serious look in his eyes that Gwendal had gotten used to outside of the castle, but never in. “But no one has died yet and you don’t even know how it’s transmitted.”

“It’s not just here in the castle, Father! We’ve been having increasing reports to the healers that all across the country people have been sick.”

“Have any died?” Gwendal demanded, his voice harsh as he finally turned away from the bed.

“We don’t know,” she insisted stubbornly. “I haven’t been able to convince _anyone_ to at least go and check when they believe it was just the flu. They think that just because no one sent us a message that said someone died, that everyone is fine who’s contracted it. They’re not even entertaining the possibility that the reason no one sent anything to us about it is because they believed it was something as simple as the flu when it could be so much worse than that, a _real_ dangerous epidemic.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No, at the moment all I had was just minor suspicions.”

Gwendal was already almost out the door as she finished speaking. “Then I’d start on that immediately, Gisela. I prefer erring on the side of caution, even if it may cause needless panic. It’s better than having us wiped out by some plague. I’ll go myself to see if anyone outside the castle has died because of it.”

Gisela and Günter had followed him out into the hall, both vaguely alarmed. “I should go. A healer should be there to see the damage for themselves,” Gisela tried to argue, but Gwendal was having none of it. He was already in the courtyard and heading toward the stables, his longer leg reach causing the other two to hurry to catch up.

“You’re the best healer we have, Gisela. You need to stay here to see if you can stem the tide, if it really is an epidemic.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he gave her his fiercest commanding expression and sent her scurrying back inside the castle.

Only Günter remained there with him, not saying a single word, as he saddled up his horse. He didn’t know what Günter expected of him or even wanted, but he needed to be doing something. He knew he wasn’t a healer and knew that when it came to illnesses, he’d be useless, so he had to get in what chance he could to be of help now.

“Gwendal.”

Gwendal swung up in the saddle when Günter’s voice and a hand on his thigh paused him. “Yes?”

The complicated look on Günter’s face brought up the constant reminder to Gwendal had little he knew about his friend and how sad that made him. It had increasingly bothered him over the past few months that he didn’t know anything. He liked Günter well enough and that wasn’t something he said about a lot of people. And it hurt a little to think that Günter refused to trust him.

“Be very careful. We don’t know how this is transmitted, how lethal it can be, or how fast it can kill, if it can kill at all.”

“Of course.”

“Gwendal…”

“What?”

“…Nothing. Just come back safe is all I ask. The castle wouldn’t be the same without you around if you don’t.”

The small smile on Günter’s face, one that seemed ever so slightly pleading and worried and yet trying to hide it behind his little joke, embedded itself into Gwendal’s mind. He knew he wasn’t good at reassurances or making people feel better, but he had a compulsion to try anyway with that look on his friend’s face. “When I die, it will be on a battlefield.”

He didn’t hear the whispered words behind him as he kicked his horse into a trot that said, “And it will be my sword. Only I can kill you, Gwendal. Only I have that honor.”

\---

At every village he came across, Gwendal consistently asked if anyone had died of the flu. Most of the time, with the villages nearest to the castle, the answer was no. In fact, most reported that no one was sick at all. But Gwendal refused to hope because hope usually ended with disappointment, so he went farther away. Perhaps by the time it reached the castle, whatever it was, it had lost most of its strength and was dying anyway. Maybe all they had to do was wait it out.

And maybe Ulrike would get married and have three kids, naming them Yuuri, Shori, and Ken.

As was his dour predictions, the farther out it went, the worse it got. At first, he just came across places that had afflicted people in them. When he’d look on them, he was thankful to the fact that he’d seen far worse, since the patients he saw were little more than skin and bones and barely breathing. When asked what it was or how to treat it, he could only grunt and reply that the healers at the castle were working on that.

The first time he saw any dead was three weeks out on his trip. He was getting nearer to the border with each passing day and with each passing visit of villages, the sickly were becoming higher in number and the chances of death even more probable.

He had swallowed thickly when he saw what the end result had become. Most had refused to go anywhere near the bodies. The only ones who’d tend to those sick and dying were the healers. Not even family had come for their loved ones after they’d died. Already these people knew terrible fear and panic and he felt burdened to know that it had been happening for weeks here, decimating village after village before they’d even given it a second thought at the castle.

The body was as bony as sick he had seen on his way past, but with a few more additions. There was a rash covering almost every part of their skin and he remembered Gisela saying that one of the patients back at the castle had developed a rash under their arms. According to the healers, near the end the sickly would cough up a fair amount of blood. They were constantly dehydrated, but couldn’t even keep the slightest bit of water down.

They couldn’t explain what had brought any of the symptoms on or what to make of it.

Since the healers didn’t even know how it was passed on from person to person, they had taken to burning the dead bodies and Gwendal filed that information away in his mind. He’d have to mention it to Gisela when he got back in case that might help in some way. His horse, war-trained animal that he might be, could smell the death in the air and how increasingly stained it and grew skittish the farther they went.

When he finally reached the border, he had come across whole villages that were empty. Part of him had hoped survivors had fled in terror, but when he had taken a thorough look inside, it only proved that everyone had been killed by what he could only name as a plague by now. Though he didn’t want to, though it upset and bothered him, he checked every town he came across even when his cynical mind told him there was probably no one alive anymore.

His perseverance paid off a little. The town had been deserted, the sound of his horses feet clacking on the stone sounding abnormally loud. He’d paused for just a little, refusing to let the animal drink any water in case it was contaminated, and had heard it then. It was faint sniffle, like a shuffle in the wind, and he’d dismounted within seconds to check it out.

Gwendal turned winding paths, just going where the sound got louder and he found a rundown house in what would generally be known as the slum area of a big city. The house was dilapidated, curtains fluttering forlornly in the wind, but he was sure that it came from inside despite all evidence that no one had been here for months.

The floorboards creaked under his weight when he entered and the sniffle-sound was cut short, followed by a gasp. It was only one room and it was easy to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. A small child, a little boy, was curled in the corner. Just one look at him told Gwendal that he was also sick, but it oddly enough didn’t look very far advanced.

He didn’t resist his urge to pick up the frightened, small child and carry him back to his horse. Perhaps if he got him to a healer fast enough, something could be done. His horse was skittish, ready to leave, so when he urged the animal into a run, it was happy to comply.

The general didn’t know if physical exertion would make it worse or not, but he knew that if he wanted to get the boy to a working hospital in any time, it would take the better part of week with a gallop on his horse to get him there. Not once did the boy say anything and he wondered if that was because he was traumatized by what he’d seen. Had he seen the whole town suffer and die? His parents? Close friends?

The days were spent in a frantic rush, the nights cold and bitter in his heart. Gwendal remembered the healers saying that it took at month for an adult to die, but what did that mean for a child? Even if it took the boy a month to die like the rest, he wasn’t that far advanced. Logically his mind said there was no reason to push his horse this hard or himself, but he was desperate to know if healers caught it fast enough, if something could be done.

He tried to ignore the burning in his lungs as the weeks went on. He’d noticed it about the time just a week before he’d found the boy. Try as though he might, he could not ignore the fear that maybe he was already infected. He hadn’t coughed; he hadn’t felt feverish or sick, like what he’d been told were the symptoms. No, just a burning in his lungs that alternately hurt and itched like mad occasionally. Other than that, he felt healthy except that same exhaustion of hard work and hard riding.

Gwendal burst into the nearest town that he knew still had people and had leapt off his horse almost before the animal had stopped moving. He made a beeline toward the hospital amid the stares at his disheveled appearance that had gotten worse since he’d passed through the first time.

The healers had welcomed the child and had immediately gone to work on him. Gwendal stayed the day and night, sleeping in only fits and starts, only to learn the next morning that despite their efforts, they couldn’t stem the flow in the child any more than they had been able to with an adult. They had said it was odd, since a child’s body was more prone to adapt to things than a full-grown person. And, according to them, though the symptoms were there, it didn’t appear as if the boy was suffering from them at all.

He hadn’t searched all of Shin Makoku, but Gwendal had seen enough. Now the only priority was reaching Blood Pledge Castle with all haste to inform Gisela of what he’d found. He thought about bringing the boy with him, given the oddities, but knew that would be cruel. He had weeks of hard riding to do and it would take him a month to get back. A child couldn’t handle that tough of a journey and he didn’t want to put unnecessary strain. No, he’d just have to mention it to Gisela and she could send someone for him later if it became necessary.

Once again, he tried to ignore the burning in his lungs as he traveled which had gotten worse. When he started coughing, he knew then without a doubt that he was indeed sick and that it was no doubt this plague. However, he still had no idea how it was transmitted. By touch? By air?

Headaches began to pound so badly in his head that it was hard to see sometimes around the pain. The longer he traveled, the more he began to rely on his horse’s sense of direction to reach home. Was this how those that died had felt? Had the healing taken away some of the pain even if it hadn’t been able to stop it?

The nights were the worst, since he was rarely able to sleep. He refused to think of his odds of survival or the fact that it was happening to him. A mantra in his subconscious constantly repeated to him that he was of no importance so long as Gisela got the information needed to stop the plague, even if he had to die to do it. He loved Shin Makoku and would by necessity give everything he had to give.

_“When I die, it will be on a battlefield.”_

When had he said that? He couldn’t remember anymore, too exhausted to even try to place it. There was a fuzzy figure in his head connected with that line, but finding proved too much energy he had to save for riding.

By the time he reached Blood Pledge Castle, he figured he probably looked like warmed-over death and not just because of the fact that he was sick. He had ridden hard for nearly two and a half months over the lengthy breadth of the kingdom with only one change of clothes, one horse, and dwindling supplies.

He handed his horse over to a startled page waiting by the stables and was unsurprised to see the change in the whole castle. The atmosphere was subdued and also at the same time hectic. He knew that people were moving around and doing things, could hear them, but couldn’t see anyone in the halls. Instinct told him where to head and when he reached the throne room doors, he shoved them open without preamble.

A shocked gasp at his appearance was what told him he’d been right at where he’d gone looking for his king and his brothers. His legs felt weak, barely able to hold himself up, but by sheer will he did so. The look in his eyes was sharp and determined, of a mind that refused to dull even when his body couldn't work anymore.

“You’ve obviously noticed by now,” he said in the silence, “that it’s a plague or epidemic of some kind. We’ve lost more towns and villages on the edges of Shin Makoku than I can count. People have been dying for months before it ever reached the castle.” The headache was getting worse, concentrating right in the area between his eyes. “The healers and hospitals have no idea how to stop it. They said it generally takes a month for an adult to die. However,” his throat was dry and it was getting hard to swallow, “I can’t particularly agree with that.”

“Why’s that?” came a small voice, but he was too tired and his vision too fuzzy to see who asked.

“Because it’s been a month since I was infected and I’m not dead yet.”

That was the last he managed to get out before his body refused to listen to his mind anymore. It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the back of his knees, taking them out entirely, and he pitched forward. All he saw was a dark blur heading toward him that he assumed was the floor and very watery, distorted voices hitting his ears:

“ _ **Gwendal!!**_ ”  



	6. Chapter 6

_The figure standing in the doorway to the throne room he could not identify with the existence that was Gwendal von Voltaire. This man before him was dirty from head to toe, sweat encrusting every crevice it could worm into. His clothing was tattered and mangled, creases clearly stating that they had been slept in repeatedly for nearly a month. Despite the almost too bright vibrancy in his eyes that seemed to come with fever, his face was gaunt with sickness and exhaustion. Even his well-kept hair was matted and dirty, the hair tie having been lost somewhere along the line._

_Günter’s jaw dropped, every bit of his control and acting deserting him in seconds. He stumbled forward a bit automatically, but when Gwendal’s gaze didn’t even register or focus, he froze. His disbelieving eyes looked even closer, down to the dirt that caked the big man’s fingernails. He looked like hell, even worse than that. He didn’t even look like the man Günter had come to know over so long._

_He looked weak, frail. Despite the awareness in his eyes and no doubt mind, his body looked broken._

_“…takes a month for an adult to die. However, I can’t particularly agree with that.”_

_“Why’s that?” Yuuri’s squeaky, shocked voice asked, but Günter’s eyes refused to stray from the figure before him. He remembered the image of Gwendal in his mind before he’d left and then the one before him now…_

_Back then, with his back ramrod straight on his horse, Gwendal had been as beautiful as always in both mind and body. Strong arms and legs, face full of determination, and how he’d clumsily and adorably tried to reassure Günter’s worries when he’d chanced just slightly to let his true feelings show. Gwendal hadn’t hurt, couldn’t hurt him. Gwendal couldn’t hurt **anyone**. This person before him was like a shadow of that, a distorted, pathetic creature. His mind poisoned by exhaustion, his body ravished by sickness…_

_“Because it’s been a month since I was infected and I’m not dead yet.”_

Günter let his head drop a little onto his praying, entwined fingers as he sat next to Gwendal’s bed. Even before Gwendal had finished speaking, he had known what had been about to happen. He’d rushed forward on cat feet, silent and swift, so fast that he had been a blur to the eye. He could remember only faintly hearing Yuuri’s voice screeching out Gwendal’s name and Günter was glad of it. His own vocal cords were frozen solid, refusing to let out any of his emotion, hiding even deeper behind his own walls so that no one would see his pain.

The body that fell into his arms then was too light. He had had one or two occasions in the past to know Gwendal’s weight and since that night during their mission when, despite Gwendal’s uncomfortable feelings about it, they’d acted out sex, he had had a very good opportunity to feel just how broad those shoulders were. Just how perfectly they were made for someone to clutch onto, to hide between strong arms where nothing could ever harm you…

This was not Gwendal. He refused to believe this frail creature in front of him was the one he’d known for so, so long.

He was so much older; so much…Günter had watched Gwendal from the time that he was just turning from boy into man. He had seen everything of Gwendal that there was to see, know everything of the way his mind worked. And he knew that Gwendal would never break a promise if it were in his power to keep it.

It didn’t help stop Günter from being insanely full of rage at Gwendal anyway. He had, in his own way, given Günter a promise to come back safe and he had come back the exact opposite.

Gisela, he knew, was working a hundred times harder now for his sake because Gwendal meant so much to him, but it did little to raise his hopes. To see the proud Gwendal just waste away was not something he’d ever let happen and yet it was so hard to think of something to do to save him. His mind, usually so sharp and fast and complicated, had all but shut down. If he hadn’t believed in Gwendal so much, he would have told himself that this was why he didn’t open himself up to people in the first place.

He didn’t need a pep talk to know that he wasn’t the type to let things go that he needed and he _needed_ Gwendal in so many, many ways. He needed Gwendal to be _here_ , not in some distant afterlife.

And damn it if he wasn’t going to make Gwendal stay in the living world even if he had to do it with Gwendal kicking and screaming all the way.

\---

Gwendal slept for five days straight, always in varying levels of unconsciousness. For three days, morning noon and night, Günter was at his bedside. Even Conrad and Wolfram stepped away to help with what they could of daily affairs and research to stem the tide of plague and death, but Günter refused to move.

He would have been there on the fourth day as well, if it hadn’t been for an unexpected visitor.

“He’s not going to die, is he?”

Günter didn’t even look up at Yozak’s tone from where he lingered in the doorway. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I thought you should know…I found something.”

“Found what?”

“This thing, whatever it is…it may have been deliberate.”

That caught Günter’s attention and he straightened. For the past few days, he hadn’t even bothered putting up his usual pretext of acting. No one gave it a second thought at his new, serious behavior, since they were all trying around the clock to stem the flow of death and sickness. Günter’s lavender eyes were sharp and piercing and even the normally unflappable Yozak seemed uncomfortable at the fever sharp pitch in his gaze that _demanded_ utmost obedience and answers.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Yozak was already stammering out what he knew and watched Gwendal’s sleeping form as if it were somehow less frightening than the healthy man next to him. “I’ve been out and about, you know, like I usually am. Didn’t give this whole thing much thought when it came about, but then I began to hear rumors. So I listened closer and it _sounds_ like it was deliberately planned. I don’t know by who, and I don’t know if it’s positive information, but it is a, uh… _possibility_.”

Günter was already shoving past Yozak out the door of the bedroom, but also beckoned for the man to follow after a pause where he reconsidered. If this was indeed planned, he knew where he was going to be heading for first. He detoured to find Gisela if she had any news on how to stop it. She appeared slightly hopeful for a cure, but unsure that even if she did find it, whether it would be enough to save Gwendal.

“He’s…he’s developed a rash,” she muttered as if he knew what that meant and indeed, Günter did. The rash was the sign of the beginning of the end. All of those that had died in the castle, taking half the population as it was, had been only a week after the rash had appeared.

“We also lost Doria today.”

One of the maids he had grown fond of, but the death didn’t even really hit him then. All he could think about was Gwendal and how he swore to every god he had ever read about that he was _not_ letting them have him.

He spun and turned to Yozak, who hovered uncertainly in the background. “Meet me at the stables, get two of the fastest horses ready, with enough provisions to last two weeks.”

“Where are you going?”

“To fetch something.”

Günter was moving at so fast a pace it was almost flat out running while walking. He was furious, rightfully so, and felt better now that he had a place to direct that rage to. He could do nothing for Gwendal here; he’d have to…trust Gisela. It wasn’t that he didn’t normally, but that to trust Gisela, anyone, with someone that meant everything to him…it was a hard thing to do.

 _There is no way I’m letting him go. Damn it, when this is over, I’m going to have to have a talk with him. I know he loves Shin Makoku and would give his life for them, but I don’t have that kind of blind faith anymore. When this is all over, I’m going to make sure Gwendal gives **me** his life so he doesn’t do something so stupid and forget to take care of himself._ He knew it was a great deal more serious than his vaguely childish monologue to himself, but it made him feel better so he ignored the inward criticism. _To have him live his life just for me, wouldn’t that be just too much for me to take? I know that Gwendal gives everything he has to Shin Makoku and the king, that it will always come first before him as a person, but I want…I want to be the one thing to Gwendal that he wouldn’t ever give up, even for Shin Makoku. How selfish is that?_

The chest at the foot of his bed was locked as always and he dug out the key from underneath his clothes where he habitually kept it. He had sworn he’d never pick it up again, but this called for it. It was the only thing he would trust to guide him through this trying, emotional time for himself.

Down at the very bottom among his other precious, hidden belongings that no one was allowed to see, was the sword he was looking for. It was, basically when it came down to it, a relic of a forgotten age in the history of the von Kleist family. It was used mostly only for show lately, but a long time ago, it had been used in battle and relied on heavily. It had been the very symbol of the heir to the von Kleist family.

Ever since long ago, when the von Kleist family swore fealty to Shinou, they had decided that their best would always be at any Maou’s side. He had been that choice this time around and though he didn’t curse his family or the king for that role, sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he hadn’t been the best at everything.

The sword itself had rubies embedded into the hilt, like drops of blood. Its hilt simply black in color with no other adornment led credence to its name of Simple Vengeance. He could remember reading in his history books about how someone in the von Kleist family had wanted to make it more decorative, more impressive looking, for the formal occasions it had been used on, but had been denied. It would have lost its history, they said.

Pulling it out of its black sheath, Günter contemplated the sword with detachment. Sharp as any new blade despite the fact it was forced so many hundreds of years ago. He’d used it only once before, in the name of the Maou before Cecilie von Spitzberg’s time and had been happy to think he’d never pick it up again.

Realizing that he had lost precious minutes wandering in his memories, he strapped the blade to his hip and hurried from his room down to the stables. Yozak, to his credit, had sensed Günter’s black mood and had moved swifter than he had any right to expect considering the state of the castle. Waiting for him were two horses that were bragged to be as fast as the wind and enough supplies to last them over two weeks. Günter didn’t think it was going to take two weeks, but better to be safe than sorry.

Especially if it entailed Gwendal’s life.

\---

When they galloped up to the double doors of the manor house, Yozak began to really worry. Günter hadn’t said a single word to him, but he hadn’t been sure he’d _wanted_ him to. There was a set to the other man’s shoulders, the way his spine was held, and the expressionless look on his face that said this was a Günter von Kleist that no one currently at the castle had ever seen before.

_Just how old is Günter anyway? And what has he gone through in his life? Probably a whole lot more than anyone suspects._

He hadn’t ever been here, but he did recognize the place he had scouted. Gwendal had surprised him by saying that he wanted to investigate the place himself and Yuuri had forced Günter to go with him. He didn’t think anyone else but him knew that they had planned to fake lovers here and he only knew it because he was especially good at finding secrets. Whatever had happened here, though, had changed something between Gwendal and Günter. He had only been at the castle for two days after they’d returned before he’d had to go out and even he could see it then. How couldn’t anyone else?

“Hertzog! Dietrich Hertzog!”

Yozak blinked, not ever having heard Günter yell before. Oh, he’d heard the man being silly and raising his voice, but this was demanding and angry. It was a voice you couldn’t say no to, one that sent shivers down your spine. He had thought that when Gwendal got angry, he was something to be feared, but right at that moment, Yozak knew that Günter topped them all.

_I’m almost glad he’s in retirement. I wouldn’t want him as my commander the way he is now._

The door opened only seconds later, with a winded older man with gray hair standing there. His eyes were bewildered at the sudden appearance, his mind obviously trying to catch up to the fact that he had acted without thought to answer to that tone of voice. It was no wonder really, as even Yozak had no idea Günter could be so overbearing.

“von Lehrer? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Kleist and where is your son?” Günter shot back, his voice clipped and hurried.

The poor man floundered even more, clearly not understanding the quickness of the conversation. “Kleist? Isn’t that the name of—”

“I asked _where_ is your _son_?”

Dietrich jumped a little at the barked command and answered without thinking. “H-H-He’s in the drawing room. W-Why?”

Yozak barely had time to leap down from his saddle before Günter was barging in through the doors without another word. He didn’t even have time to calm the older man, too busy trying to suddenly keep up with his superior. His abortive attempts at calming Günter down with words ended up yielding nothing but silence and a supreme ignorance of his existence.

The sound of the door to the drawing room slamming open shattered through the house and reverberated through the floors. Yozak ran the last few feet instead of jogged, just in time to see Günter’s figure in a flash of white as he tossed a young man with silver hair violently against the wall.

“Hey, Günter! Hey, man, calm down! You look ready to kill!”

Again, he was merely ignored. Someone slammed into him from behind as he stood in the doorway and then shoved rudely past him. All he saw was the color blonde as the man whizzed past to restrain Günter, but it did little good. Günter was far too fast and focused only on the boy he’d hit before. Yozak didn’t even bother trying to stop the lavender haired man, knowing instinctively that nothing would suppress him.

“Who did it, Julius?!”

The kid, apparently named Julius, levered himself up on the floor and wiped his bleeding lip with as much dignity as he could muster. “Who did _what_ , von Lehrer?” he spat with something very much close to hatred.

“It’s von Kleist.”

Yozak jerked and looked down at the older man who had whispered into the stunned silence. The bewilderment was gone, replaced by a surprised understanding. Julius’ eyes widened, as if he too understood and knew the fact that Kleist was one of the main twelve noble houses of Shin Makoku.

“You…you lied to us. You _pretended_ to—gah!”

Julius’ voice cut off as Günter roughly pulled him off the floor and pinned him to the wall. He ignored the tugging on his arms from the blonde man in the room as if it were entirely inconsequential. It was the only time in Yozak’s life he saw Günter acting so homicidal. In fact, he’d _never_ seen Günter as anything but fairly easy going, if a bit high strung.

How much did _anyone_ know about Günter?

“You’re right, _we_ weren’t in love, but _I_ was. I _am_. I’ll say it right here and now with your family and Yozak as my witness: I love Gwendal von Voltaire. Do you?”

“You—you know I do!”

“Then why did you help these people kill him?!”

Julius blinked at the roar of Günter’s angry voice and began to tremble. “Gwendal…he’s dead? He can’t be…No, this can’t…How—”

“ _You_ helped them, didn’t you? The people that poisoned those in Shin Makoku with a plague, didn’t you?”

Eyes widened in horrified understanding and the boy began to shake his head like a broken doll. “I…I o-only gave them a little money…It was…a long time ago, long before I met G-Gwendal. Long before there was even a new king.”

“Julius…” the old man next to him muttered in shock and the tugging from the blonde man in the room on Günter’s arm slowly ceased, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “How…how could you do such a thing like that? You…you couldn’t have _known_ …!”

“I knew…I knew what they planned on doing, but I didn’t think they’d go _through_ with it. And that was _before_! Before I knew about the new king and before I knew about the Mazoku and how they’re decent people and before Gwendal! I swear…! He can’t be dead, he can’t!”

Günter held no sympathy for the panic-stricken teenager. “No, he’s not dead _yet_ , but he’s contracted your plague and he’s got less than a week left to live! We have _no_ antidote and he’s going to die if you don’t tell me what I want to know!”

“It’s not _my_ plague!”

“You helped them so you’re still culpable! How can you say you love him?!”

“I do! I said that when I did that, it was a long time ago! Long before I met him!” Julius shouted back, both of them seeming no longer aware that anyone else was in the room.

“Do you love Gwendal enough to kill him?”

At Günter’s words, the color drained from the young boy’s face. “Wh-What kind of question is that?”

“Do you love him enough to kill him?”

“I—”

“I do,” Günter replied, his voice going steadily lower until it was but a mere whisper. “I love him enough to kill him…but with _happiness_. I want nothing more than love him enough until he feels like he’s dying. I want to give him so much happiness that he feels like he really did die and went to heaven. I love him enough that if he ever asked me to kill him if he lost control of his mind, that I’d do it without hesitation. I love him enough to entrust my whole, blackened, ruined, disillusioned heart to him. To me, he is the purest creature on this planet, completely untainted. He looks severe, but in truth, he is the gentlest man I’ve ever met. Everyone is deceived by his looks, but I can tell. People are fools. They can’t see the perfection right in front of them.”

Julius was mute, as if he didn’t know what to say, and Yozak could understand the feeling. Right then, he wouldn’t have been able to find anything to say either. He’d never met anyone with that same devotion that he’d seen in his commander. Gwendal had that same belief in Shin Makoku, would die for it. Günter was like that, only for Gwendal. He had thought that the most loyal person, the most obvious to die for the king, would be Günter.

He was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“I love him and now I have to watch him die. Do you know how that makes me feel?! Do you know what that does to me?! I’ve lived so long and the only person who’s ever made me feel like I could _trust_ someone again is _dying_ all because of _you_!” Günter’s voice was just short of a shout and Julius winced, being inches away from that terrifying figure. “I will kill _for_ him too and believe me, if you don’t give me the people who made this plague, I’ll kill you instead.”

“Th-They’re fanatics, who b-believe that h-humans are—that all M-Mazoku should d-die—” the boy babbled, obviously fearing for his life like any reasonable person would. Just looking into Günter’s eyes was enough for Yozak to know that the advisor would follow through with his promise with pleasure.

“Just tell me _where they are_!”

“I-I don’t know anymore. I-It’s been years s-since…b-but last time I saw them, they were holed up in an abandoned mineshaft down south of here about two, three miles.”

Günter let the boy drop to the floor and the disgust in his eyes was as clear as day. “You will never, ever be worthy enough for him. The fact that you helped these people, even thought about it, even before you knew him, proves _that_ abundantly. And now, you’re killing him.” With a swish of his cape, Günter was shoving himself out the door and heading back down to his horse. “Come, Yozak. We have a long ride ahead of us and we have to hurry if we want to save Gwendal’s life.”

Yozak looked back over his shoulder only once before he left in time to see the boy, Julius, crumple in on himself and sob.

\--

I don't know how Günter comes off here. I don't think he's OOC, not with the current situation and how much I've tried to explain him in the fic, but let me know if you think he is. It's interesting to write a really, purely angry Günter since he seems to me the type to rarely be honestly, _really_ angry.


	7. Chapter 7

As he had suspected, there was no one in the mineshaft when they arrived. Günter only poked about for about a minute before he’d left to explore outside of it for any sign of where they might have gone. They weren’t there now, but it appeared as if they’d left only recently, given the state of things inside.

“Uh, Günter…sir? What are we going to do now? They don’t appear to be here.” Günter didn’t bother looking at him, too busy studying the ground to see if what he thought were faint footprints really were or just a depression in the ground. “Do you think they have the antidote?”

Though he didn’t answer and merely gestured for Yozak to follow him as he mounted his horse again, he privately thought it didn’t matter whether they had an antidote or not. Oh, no doubt that he wished one to be found with all his heart, but all he could feel at the moment was rage. The urge to find these people and wash his blade with vengeance was overpowering. His heart was in direct contrast to his ice-cold mind that was thinking with a terrifying detached logic.

They’d been traveling for three days now and Günter could only count down the minutes that he’d been gone from Gwendal’s side. He didn’t know what was better or worse: being at the castle and knowing there was no cure, or being away and wondering if when he came back, there would be a miracle. Part of him believed the latter was better, as there was always that faint glimmer of hope that remained flickering in his heart.

His horse leapt over a fallen log expertly and though he wanted to push it faster, he knew that he didn’t dare overtire the animal so early. That would mean he’d be forced to wait while it recovered through precious time he couldn’t afford.

Yozak had tried several times to talk to him and it wasn’t that Günter was ignoring him on purpose. It was just that there was no room in his mind for anything other than Gwendal at the moment. He couldn’t spare a single second of his attention from his busy, lightning fast thoughts to utter anything in response. His whole life had come down to a single point in which he refused to fail.

Apparently Yozak had picked up on the fact that they were following a trail of barely discernable footprints and didn’t even bother asking where they were going. Günter didn’t know, but in the rare moments he chanced looking away, he could see a determination in Yozak’s face. Gwendal didn’t realize it, but those around him did care for him regardless of what he might think. He may be intimidating and somewhat hard to get along with, but he was still loved by those around him and respected above all else by his soldiers.

Günter didn’t dare think of the alternative if he didn’t find those he was looking for.

\---

Yuuri didn’t remember the last time he had actually slept. The only times he rested were when he got so exhausted that he just fell into a light doze against the nearest person or object. He’d been overworking himself with the healers to try to block and slow the sickness while a cure was being sought, but there was only so much they’d let him do. Though he insisted on healing, eventually the others would force him away into Conrad’s waiting grip.

He wasn’t expendable they said. Whenever he was on the dangerous brink of exhaustion, they would force him to stop and tell him to sleep.

He couldn’t sleep.

It hadn’t been for hours, almost an entire day gone by, that he had noticed Günter was missing. It wasn’t that unusual that he didn’t see those he was used to lately. The only time he saw Gisela or Anissina were when they were together, using either science or magic to devise a cure.

At first, he hadn’t paid it much attention until Conrad had brought it up to him. Yozak had been supposed to return with information that he’d requested him privately to get, but hadn’t showed up. He obviously thought something was wrong and by the frown on his face, which Conrad rarely had, he thought it was serious.

“Where do you think Günter could have gone?”

“I don’t know, but obviously since they’re both missing and not in the castle, they went somewhere together. I don’t know why though or what information Yozak discovered that he felt the need to tell Günter.”

Currently, Yuuri was using Conrad as something as a pillow as he tried to rest his tired, gritty eyes. His vision was slightly blurry from all the magic he’d been using lately and if he kept his eyes closed, he didn’t get that swimmy sensation that made him sick. “Do you think they’ll find it, Conrad?”

Conrad’s hand slipped through his hair reassuringly and instinctively, Yuuri turned toward the light pressure. He still wasn’t used to this whole king idea even after so long and there always seemed to be one crisis after another. Now with a plague that was killing one of Conrad’s brothers…He felt personally responsible because it happened on _his_ watch. He should have been paying attention.

“Conrad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Yuuri. No one saw this coming and Gwendal…well, I can’t imagine him letting this beat him. Nothing has ever beaten him except Günter.”

“Günter?” Yuuri opened his eyes in surprise, happy to find his vision was like it should be and he could make out the details of Conrad’s handsome face. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t witness it first hand, because I hadn’t been born yet, but I heard that when Gwendal first came to the castle, for one reason or another that he got into a fight with Günter.” Conrad chuckled a little. “They said Günter had beaten Gwendal in three steps and the expression on Gwendal’s face was priceless. Mother never fails to remind Gwendal of it on his birthday every year because it had been three days before it at the time.”

“Yeah, but that was when Gwendal had been really young, right? He probably didn’t have any experience then.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think there’s a lot about Günter that no one fully grasps. Sometimes I wonder if I could ever beat him.”

“ _You_ lose? Seriously?”

Their gazes met and the warmth in Conrad’s brown eyes made him flush a little, ever so slightly. Whenever he had a spare mental moment lately when he thought about the older man, it caused him to blush…

“Do you think Günter and Yozak are okay wherever they are?”

“I hope so.” Conrad frowned slightly. “I think it would hurt Gwendal’s chances of recovery if something happened.”

“Günter and Gwendal are really that close?”

“Have been ever since I was a kid and whether Gwendal admits it or not, Günter means a lot to him.”

Before Yuuri could respond, Gisela rushing into the room shattered their peace and solitude. “Your Majesty, we need you! It’s Gwendal!”

\---

Günter stalked around the edge of the camp with a silent Yozak at his side. It had taken far more time than he wanted to think about to find the people that had done this. The fact that they had been arrogant enough to hide out right in Shin Makoku burned in his blood and he had silently slipped out his sword before he’d even gave it a conscious thought.

He jerked his head at Yozak and his eyes told him to go around the back. There was a bit of a pause, as if Yozak was uncertain about doing so, but eventually began to comply.

Just a turning of the other man’s back was all Günter needed and he was already in a lightning-fast sprint toward the door of the hastily put together building. Had he turned around, he would have expected to see horror on Yozak’s face, but it didn’t matter. His heart, his feelings, had overrode his mind and demanded that someone pay a price for what was happening to Gwendal.

Wind magic, as sharp as any knife, had sliced away the restraints for the horses nearby, tethered to the building. They weren’t war-horses and easily frightened and with terrified whinnies, they bolted in any direction away from the running man. By now his opponents were probably aware he was there, so it didn’t matter if Yozak was yelling at him to stop.

They hadn’t even so much as made it to the door before Günter had burst in with his blade flashing in the sunlight.

\---

Yuuri rushed into Gwendal’s bedroom, already ready with his magic. Gwendal was coughing and it took two people to keep the man on his side so he didn’t choke on his own blood. It was easy to see that he couldn’t breathe and by the ‘v’ in his forehead, he was no doubt in a great deal of pain.

“We’re losing him!” Anissina barked, already there before he, Gisela, and Conrad had reached the bedroom. “Hurry!”

\---

It was little more than a bloodbath said some part of Günter’s mind that wasn’t currently embroiled slicing at any flesh he saw in front of him. He knew someone of his skill, going all out like this, was terrible. They no doubt could barely see him, he was moving so fast. He didn’t even bother with his magic, just kept moving his sword in whatever way his body told him to.

_I’m sick. I’m wrong, my whole being is, I’m covered in blood. I have to stop, I have to **stop**! These people, they’re not even fighting! They’re just trying to escape, I have to stop! Please stop!_

His sword, hesitating just a second, continued its downward progress when Gwendal’s face involuntarily flashed in his mind.

\---

It was with desperateness that Yuuri threw every inch of magic he had into saving Gwendal’s life. Wolfram had rushed in seconds ago, but he could spare no mind for anyone other than Gwendal. There were four healers, including Gisela and himself, who tried to stop, to at least pause the sickness in his tracks, but it was barely slowing it down. Anissina had disappeared after someone had whispered something to her.

In fact, he didn’t even know when she returned, only that she and Gisela were screaming at each other in frantic tones.

“Gisela, I’ve got—”

“Later, Anissina! You there, put more magic into this or don’t you want to save him?!”

“Gisela, I’m telling you—”

“ _Later_ , Anissina, we’re _losing_ him!”

His connection to Gwendal through his magic told him when Gwendal’s heart stopped. Gisela’s shriek in his ear barely penetrated his own terror.

“ _ **GWENDAL**_!”

\---

Yozak’s disbelieving stare at his back did nothing to penetrate the state that Günter had fallen into as he stood in the center of the room and in the middle of six dead bodies. It had been over in a matter of seconds, though it had felt like a lifetime. Yozak had rushed after him as fast as he could and he wanted to curse the other man that he just hadn’t been fast enough to stop him.

A voice in Günter’s mind spat bitterly back at him that even if he had, he wouldn’t have had the strength to anyway.

He glanced down at the sword and desperately wished he didn’t have to remember what it did. It wasn’t like Morgif, but it did have something of a vague but unintelligent consciousness to it. Some part of him tried to console himself that it was the sword’s fault, that it was designed to heighten feelings of anger and rage to get that vengeance like it was made to, but he knew that it wasn’t true. It was part of it, but the rest was all him.

 _They were just trying to run away, they didn’t even know what hit them._ And yet after living so long, he knew very well how to deal with this guilt: focus on the facts and hide the destruction he had wrought upon himself and others into the blackness of his heart. _They’ve paid for their crimes now._ He always said no one but himself was worthy of Gwendal and yet he knew what a hypocrite he was. If anyone was the least worthy, it was himself.

And yet he couldn’t stop loving him.

“Yozak.” Yozak jerked, eyes finally going from the bodies to Günter as he calmly turned around. “This didn’t happen. You came to tell me something, but it was a false lead. There was nothing here.”

“Hey now—”

“They don’t need to know, Yozak.” He stepped out back into the sunlight and felt as if he truly didn’t belong. The only place he had ever felt like he belonged, accepted for who he was, was near Gwendal.

“Yeah, but—”

He knew Yozak’s sense of rightness was getting in the way and for the first time in his life, he tried to explain his decisions. Not even to Gwendal had he had to explain. Gwendal had never asked the reasons why. A bitter smile touched his lips even as if he felt like crying. _So unclean…_

“Yozak, no one can find more ways to blame me for this than myself. I know what I’ve done and I can’t take it back. My punishment is for no one to know.” Their eyes met. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘A grief that is shared is lessened and happiness doubled’? By that logic, if no one knows of this, isn’t the weight of my actions punishment enough for what I’ve done?”

Yozak no longer said anything and Günter lifelessly ordered him to get their horses ready to go while he washed the blood off his clothes.

\---  
not sure how well this is gonna go over.  



	8. Chapter 8

When Günter and Yozak rode back into Blood Pledge Castle’s courtyard, the difference in the atmosphere was palatable. When he had rode out of there in a fit of rage, it had been desperate and oppressive. Now, it was merely nothing. The change bothered him and in a way of protection, he emotionally brought down his barriers, already fearing the worst even as he contemplated what the change could possible mean.

It meant that it could either be just stunned into nothing that they had succeeded in finding something good or nothing at all because they had just lost someone important.

The first thing Günter did was leap off his horse and run into the castle. He didn’t bother with anything else, just out and out running for Gwendal’s room. He had to know, had to know more than anything else. More than changing his clothes, resting his horse, or finding Gisela, he had to know if Gwendal was still alive. The worry had pounded in his brain for all the time he and Yozak traveled from and back to the capital.

Disturbingly, the halls were empty and silent around him and it didn’t help his mental state at all. Every moment of silence caused him to move faster, his heart to beat harder. For the first time, there was no way to escape the thought that confronted, that _had_ to be addressed: What would he do if Gwendal died? Could he _bear_ to be in the castle after this? To be constantly hounded by the memories of his failure? He had sworn to himself that he would protect Gwendal, protect the perfect being that was Gwendal, but if he failed?

How could he ever bear to live like that?

His sudden entrance into the bedroom had the same stunned quality as Gwendal’s had in the throne room weeks ago when he’d returned. He didn’t care that Yuuri, Wolfram, and Conrad were staring at him. He didn’t care that Cecilie, who had apparently rushed back to the castle and arrived before he’d come back, was crying.

All he knew was that there was a pair of deep sapphire eyes looking into his with surprise.

Gwendal was still as thin and frail as he had looked before, but the fact was that he was alive. Günter could see only faint splotches of red that remained of the rash he’d developed when he had left and though his skin was pasty white still, there was a ray of hope. A tray of half eaten food was sitting on the table next to the bed, obviously long since forgotten in the happiness that he was alive.

His knees felt weak and if his hand hadn’t been clutched onto the doorframe, Günter thought that he might collapse. Warmth at his back told him that Yozak had followed him silently, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Suddenly nothing mattered anymore. What he’d done, the guilt and self-loathing, disappeared completely. His unkempt appearance and his exhaustion faded away until he had no concept of himself at all.

The only thing that mattered was that Gwendal was alive.

He managed not to stumble as he made his way over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it that had been forcefully cleared for him by Yuuri dragging Wolfram away. Again, he couldn’t speak a word, only continue to pin the gaze that watched him curiously with his own. Slowly, his arms reached out and as if he feared this was a dream or that he’d break him if he held him too hard, he hugged Gwendal. He _wanted_ to tell them, beg everyone to leave, but nothing, not a single sound, escaped.

Gwendal was the only one he’d ever let see him cry.

But luck was with him because Conrad and Yozak had managed to usher everyone out quietly and with little fuss until the silence was filled only with their breathing. He buried his face in a slim, gaunt shoulder and waited in terrified anticipation as finally Gwendal’s hand came up to hold him back. He couldn’t hold back his tears then, so distraught over everything and so, so tired that he no longer cared.

\---

“Günter?” Gwendal asked uncertainly, not sure what to do with an emotional and yet completely unemotional Günter. He wasn’t used to be the object of everyone’s attention, so it had been getting slightly uncomfortable with his mother crying, his king and brother doting on him, and Conrad watching silently. Their joyful words had petered off when Günter had appeared, his white clothes stained a beige color from dirt and the look in his eyes had stunned Gwendal.

He looked both defeated and stunned with elation.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please act like you haven’t seen this.”

He could feel the wetness on his shoulder from Günter’s crying, but it wasn’t sobbing. It was just quiet, without a sound, crying. Whatever he had expected out of his friend, this wasn’t it. Perhaps he had expected anger, or maybe even a wibbly lecture, but never tears. He’d never, didn’t think anyone had, ever seen Günter really _cry_ and it broke his heart for some reason, while also making him feel guilty that he was obviously the one that caused it.

“How…?”

Gwendal cleared his throat, wanting to know but knowing he’d never ask why Günter looked travel-stained and overworked. “I found a boy during my time when I was investigating the plague. He’d been infected, but didn’t suffer from any of the symptoms. In fact, he was quite healthy despite malnutrition. I managed to wake up with lucidity long enough to mention it to Gisela. According to Anissina, they’d immediately sent for him and she had used a bit of his blood to concoct a remedy. It’s not permanent, she said,” he explained, ignoring the horrifying fear he saw flash for only seconds in Günter’s eyes, “but she said it’s helping a great deal and will give her time to create a pure antidote that will work in one shot. She and Gisela agree that if I keep taking the doses of the watered down remedy, I’ll get better eventually.”

“Do they have an estimate on how long that would take?”

“If I take it every day starting now, three weeks.”

“That’s amazing it would work so fast.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute and reached up to touch Günter’s wet cheeks, who had managed to forcefully stop crying and get a hold of himself. He couldn’t stop the questions appearing in his eyes, but his voice would never say it. They could be ignored if they were left unsaid if Günter didn’t want to talk.

Surprisingly, Günter leaned his head into his touch with a sigh and an expression came across the older man’s face that stunned Gwendal and caused him to blush slightly. It wasn’t guarded like he was used to when the other man wasn’t acting. No, it was pure relief and something that he would have called _loving_ had this been anyone but Günter and himself in the situation.

“Günter?”

His uncertain question brought Günter’s attention back from wherever it had wandered and a hand reached up to gently hold Gwendal’s lean wrist. He didn’t say a word, which made Gwendal nervous, and there was a determination he’d never seen before. Soon Günter had leaned in so close that they were less than centimeters apart and hot breath assaulted Gwendal’s lips in an action that was somehow teasing and seductive.

“Günter?” he tried again, faltering into silence at saying anything else.

“You promised.”

“Huh?”

“You said and I quote, ‘When I die, it will be on a battlefield’.”

“I’m not dead, Günter.”

“No, but you almost were.”

“Almost is not the same thing as is,” he insisted, his steel will clashing with a sudden irritation in Günter’s eyes. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but his grip on Gwendal’s wrist increased. He was so busy with that silent fight, he didn’t even notice Günter shifting his position a little until he was being pressed back on the bed with Günter bearing down on him.

“You make me so angry sometimes, Gwendal.” Though the voice was calm, rather conversational, it didn’t mask the negative feelings he saw in Günter’s eyes. “Did you honestly think that I would let this go? Didn’t I _tell_ you point blank that when I find what I need, I never let it go? I will never let you die.”

“I thought…” he trailed off, before picking up again as he thought back over the embarrassing incident, “Günter, what’s going—”

But a tongue had wedged its way inside his open mouth and deterred further conversation. He didn’t understand anything that was going on anymore. There was no need to act like lovers, so he didn’t know why Günter was kissing him. And why there was so much more feeling in it, even more so than there had been during that kiss in daylight. It was consuming him in fire, infecting him with Günter’s desperateness. He found himself responding as best he could in his weakened state, the kiss lasting so long that when Günter pulled away, he was left dizzy from lack of air and unable to speak.

“You’re going to ask why I did that, aren’t you? You still don’t get it?” His bewildered gaze must have been answer enough because Günter sighed. “I love you. I always have. I’ve been watching over you, out for you, since you were a child. Since we had that first fight when you came to Blood Pledge Castle with your mother. I don’t know when it became love instead of mere protective interest, but ever since then, _you’re_ the one who has had my undying loyalty, not Shin Makoku.”

Finally, Günter moved back to sit on the edge of the bed again, looking out the window and not at Gwendal who struggled to sit up with some level of composure. The confidence he’d always seen, always been unconsciously aware of, was gone only to be replaced by resignation and nervousness.

Günter had never been afraid to meet his eyes before.

“If I’ve gone this far, I might as well tell the rest.” There was a sigh and yet no matter how hard he tried, their gazes refused to connect. Even when Günter looked elsewhere, it was over Gwendal’s shoulder or above his head, or to the side. It was frustrating and irritating and upsetting for Gwendal because this wasn’t the Günter he knew. If he couldn’t see Günter’s eyes, know what he was feeling, he didn’t know how he was supposed to act.

“Gwendal, you know me better than you think, so don’t second-guess your conclusions about me. You’re right, I _don’t_ trust anyone…except you. To me, you will never be intimidating. It’s not because I’m older or because I’ve known you since you were very young.” Their eyes happened to cross, touch, for less than a second and it was even more irritating because that wasn’t enough time to see what sort of emotions the currently blank-faced Günter was feeling.

“It’s because I know _you_ as a person. You’re gentle, Gwendal, and don’t deny that you aren’t. I know you like cute things and I know that outside of battle, you’d never hurt anyone. You’re adorable in your awkward attempts at dealing with others and I never get tired of watching you. People may think you’re intimidating, people like Yuuri are slightly afraid of you even when they know you won’t hurt them, but I know that’s not right. Babies and children are _drawn_ to you because they can sense your beautiful soul and for someone as old and embittered as I am, that’s like call I can’t resist.”

Gwendal’s face had continuously darkened in a blush the longer Günter talked. He didn’t seem embarrassed at any of things he said and suddenly Gwendal wished that he _wasn’t_ going to tell him everything. It was awkward and weird listening to someone describe him as ‘adorable’ and ‘beautiful’ when even he had never once ever thought to apply those words to himself.

“I _love_ you, Gwendal. The time when I ‘pretended’ to love you when we went to Dietrich Hertzog’s manor was _real_ to me. It was as torture to me as it was to you to act out that scene. I was so afraid you’d see my feelings when I wasn’t ready to let you know that I had to be as withdrawn as possible. I had to be as cold as possible and I’m _sorry_ for that, if you thought you did anything wrong. I know you feel guilty about it, but even though it was as hard for me as it was for you, part of me was happy. It was the first time I could kiss you and know what it would feel like to hold you. It was so wonderful that if I had let myself go even just a little bit, it _wouldn’t_ have stayed at acting and that…” Günter stared at the blanket that covered Gwendal’s bed, and it almost appeared as if it took everything Günter had to finish. “It would have ruined everything if we had that night.”

Silence filled the room as Gwendal could think of _nothing_ to say. No one had ever confessed to him like this before. It was common for two males in a relationship, hardly unheard of, but Günter was the first man that had ever confessed to him. He wasn’t pretty, he was far too stern, and most of the time completely unlikable. The qualities that Günter had listed he saw in him, he didn’t even think he had. He was too severe to be called _adorable_ for example.

Günter stood up finally, seeming to sense that Gwendal needed time to think. If he knew Gwendal as well as Günter appeared to, he wouldn’t need to be told that. Gwendal went at change at his own pace and he’d just been dropped a whole bundle of it right in his lap and needed time to sort it out. “I don’t know if you want to see me while you recover—”

“Don’t stop coming.” Gwendal’s words, out of his mouth before he could even think about them, were absolutely true. He didn’t know what to think about Günter, about his confession, but he did know for certain that he did want Günter by his side. Whether it was as anything more than a friend, he had no idea. “I don’t know what to answer to your feelings, but don’t disappear on me before I figure it out.”

He hadn’t ever thought that such simple words could make someone so happy, but Günter’s whole face lit up, as if he couldn’t help it. That faint hint of shyness that he’d swore he thought he dreamed up during that night just before they had acted out sex came back just briefly. “Then I’ll come again soon. I want to talk to Gisela and Anissina and you should get some sleep.”

Even after Günter had been gone for two hours, Gwendal found sleep not forthcoming.  



	9. Chapter 9

It took the castle a long time to get back to normal after the plague and they had ended up so severely short-handed that everyone had to help, no matter if it was the king or his generals. There was such a rush to get things back into a more or less ordered state that the world still continued to feel just a little disjointed. The feeling of rush-rush-hurry-hurry still lingered in the air and exhaustion became something of an unwanted guest that refused to leave. Everyone had no choice but to drop their usual duties in favor of recovery.

All except for Günter, who refused to leave Gwendal’s side for any reason. The only two who could force him away, Gisela and Yuuri, often felt too softhearted to do so seeing how much and how happily he doted on Gwendal. Some felt irritated and upset at how Günter appeared to be doing nothing, but to those that were in that inner circle knew just how much Günter was doing and it was so much more than anyone else. To lose an important general would have been a huge blow, if for no other reason than the stability of the country.

Gwendal watched as Günter put himself back together over the days and weeks while he was stuck in bed with the older Mazoku taking care of him. The silliness, the outrageous antics, they were all back, but he could not forget those rare moments before where he saw such a seriousness of purpose. Nor could he forget Günter’s unexpected confession, though it was never made mention of again.

Günter wasn’t pushing for an answer, but Gwendal knew instinctively that his friend wanted one. He disliked himself for being so hesitant to make a decision, as hesitation never got anyone anything, but nevertheless he found himself reluctant to say anything. He didn’t deny that he enjoyed Günter’s company. He didn’t deny that he never once thought of ever sending the man away. But were his feelings, what he had always taken as friendship, _love_?

“Here, Gwennie! Eat up!”

“You know…Günter…I can eat by myself,” he stated, giving the spoon within threatening inches of his mouth a pointed look.

His friend only beamed at him and no matter how he argued, Günter refused to let him have any sort of utensil. Of course, looking at any sort of thing like that also inevitably reminded him of Günter’s fight over Gwendal during their mission. It didn’t seem to matter what it was, it all reminded him of Günter and various stupid things he’d always done.

Unlike what he had expected _before_ the confession, the person he had expected the most trouble with convincing to let him out of bed had been Gisela, but it turned out the biggest opponent to the idea had be Günter himself. Even after Anissina had developed a permanent cure instead of the minor potions that staved off the plague for awhile, Günter was adamantly against having him get up until he was _“perfectly healthy”_.

“I think you secretly like doing this to me,” he muttered after Günter had forcefully shoved the spoon in his mouth. He had no choice but to eat, lest he choke to death and he did not want to even think about Günter’s retribution had he died from that after surviving the plague.

It was the first time he realized just how scary Günter could be when he wanted something.

Günter’s grin at his comment was downright bright as the sun. “Of course, Gwennie!” The added sentence in that air of ‘because I love you’ went unsaid but Gwendal could feel it with every fiber of his being.

“Don’t call me that.”

“But Cheri-sama calls you that…” Patented wibble coming, he could see it from miles away.

He sighed. “She’s my mother. She’s an exception. You think I’d ever let Conrad or Wolfram call me that?”

Günter looked so disappointed that Gwendal felt guilty all over again. Honestly, the older Mazoku knew exactly what buttons to push, didn’t he? “Fine, I don’t care!”

Günter’s responding grin was enough to make him almost wish he still had the plague.

\---

“As far as His Majesty knows, the plague is just a mutated cold. Thank you for keeping your silence, Yozak.”

Yozak frowned. “Not like I wanted to, but I figure what you said is right. You’re probably punishing yourself far more than the kid would ever do to you and really, he’d be too upset and we don’t need that right now.”

He relaxed into the chair he lounged at, looking at Günter’s serious countenance standing next to Gwendal’s desk. Gwendal had been forcibly bedridden for the last three weeks and even Gisela was on her father’s case about letting the man up now. They did need the help and even if Gwendal wasn’t perfectly healthy just yet, he could use the exercise.

“However, I do have a condition.”

He knew he was taking a huge risk with this when Günter turned around and he got a few seconds glance of a dangerous look in the man’s eyes, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just do _nothing_ about what had happened. Maybe he was too soft, but he could understand what motivated Günter to do what he did and having Günter live with this his whole life without telling a soul, believing he was little more than a killer, was more than Yozak would allow. It was wrong what he did, but given the stress Günter had been under, his obvious feelings for Gwendal and his kingdom, there was no doubt in Yozak’s mind that Günter needed to be forgiven.

Not from Yuuri or anyone else, but from himself…and maybe one other person.

“What sort of condition?”

“You do this and I’ll keep my silence until I’m in the ground. Of course, once I’m dead, all bets are off.” He flashed his patented, goofy smile, but Günter didn’t seem at all amused by his joke. “All right, all right. I won’t tell a single soul if _you_ tell Gwendal about what you did.”

There was no outraged gasp after his statement, but he could feel the whole atmosphere become icy. He almost shivered and any weaker man would have fled, but Yozak was used to dealing with intimidating commanders. Just not _this_ intimidating, but he refused to be cowed when he believed what he was doing was right.

“If I can guess right, you’ve probably told him how you feel right? Don’t worry, you hid it very well, but what I do best is find out secrets, so I saw it. It’s my specialty and there hasn’t ever been a secret hidden that I can’t find out about. Anyway, you probably told him and he deserves, for one, to know what he’s getting into before he makes a decision and two…well, two he also deserves to know just how far you’ll go for him. I mean, honestly! Can anyone really say that in this day and age that there’s someone who will love someone for so long and so hard that they will go through the very bowels of hell for another person even if that person may never respond to their feelings? There aren’t many like that nowadays. You are a rare breed.”

“You’re saying if I tell him how black my heart is and how red my hands are that you won’t tell anyone else. Ever?”

“Yup. Simple, no?”

“Hardly.” But Günter appeared to be thinking about it seriously, which meant to Yozak that his silence meant a great deal to his superior. He honestly didn’t think there would be any benefit to anyone, especially to Yuuri, were it known so he had no problem not saying anything. After all, he had an incredible amount of things known to himself that no one else did. For example, what would it gain to tell Yuuri of Conrad’s love for him that transcended just king-subject? Nothing really except hurt Wolfram, make Yuuri more confused, and embarrass Conrad. Conrad treasured his brother and his king and would likely take the damn secret to his grave.

“Fine, I’ll tell him. Would you like to be present when I do?”

The sarcasm amid the words, combined with the sharp look Günter gave him, told him it would be hazardous to his health to be there and he frantically shook his head with a shaky laugh. “Oh no, wouldn’t dream of it! I trust ya, Günter-sama!”

\---

“Gwendal, I have something to tell you.”

“…I do as well, Günter.”

Günter winced, knowing that whatever Gwendal had to say, it had to be the answer to his confession that he’d been waiting for nearing-four weeks to hear. But like Yozak had implied, Gwendal didn’t have all the facts and what he would say right then would probably, undoubtedly, tip the scales toward the negative, but what choice did he have? If he wanted to buy Yozak’s silence, this was the only way to do it. And in his heart of shameful hearts, he knew Yozak was right.

“Let me go first because…this might affect what you’re going to say.” As he expected, Gwendal fell silent seeing his serious look. It took all his willpower to sit on the edge of that bed, knowing that what he would say could destroy everything he’d ever had over the years, regardless of the future. Gwendal could end up hating him for life. He had an overwhelming sense of justice and he adhered to his morals so much that he was forever beyond reproach. Günter’s act of mindless killing when they had not even had a chance to fight back would no doubt violate everything that constituted every fiber of Gwendal’s being.

“When I found out you had the plague after you got back, Yozak came to me and said he had heard that this plague had been deliberate. My suspicions brought me back to Julius Hertzog and when I confronted him, I found out I was right. Long time ago he had once funded a group of anti-Mazoku. It was before he met you, long before Yuuri had ever thought of being the king. They finally appeared successful, however, in the recent years in making the plague and released it. Yozak and I tracked them down and found them.” He took a deep breath, forestalling anything Gwendal might say with two fingers gently touching the expansive softness of the other man’s lips. “I was so enraged over what happened to you that I…they didn’t even know I was there, didn’t know I was coming. All they were doing was trying to run and I cut them down as surely as if they’d held a blade. It was a massacre, Gwendal, plain and simple. I have asked Yozak, who saw it, to say nothing, but his condition for that is that I tell you.”

Gwendal didn’t say anything even after Günter allowed him time to speak, but he could not make himself leave despite that he logically and tactfully should. His heart had been tasked enough; it demanded that he stay and find out what Gwendal had been about to say. He had waited for years upon years upon _years_ , surely he could wait for a little longer, right? No, he couldn’t. He was filled with a terrible impatience to know _now_.

“It is understandable,” Gwendal finally said, much to Günter’s surprise. “You love your country and its king and to see it being devastated by this plague…well, I can’t say that—”

“You don’t get it, you loveable child!” he blurted in the middle, gripping Gwendal’s shoulders. “I didn’t do it because of my country, but because _you_ were _dying_! The thought that they were trying to take you away from me was more than I could bear! I will never allow anyone to take you away from me, Gwendal! The only one ever allowed to bring you death is me! I will do anything to keep you here!”

He couldn’t help the desperate kisses he stole, ignoring and yet relishing the blush that appeared and made Gwendal look so adorably handsome. It could be, he knew, the last time he would ever have this chance again. Yozak had appeared to find his dedication to Gwendal something worthy of praise and admiration, but how would the recipient of that dedication feel when they knew that that someone else had murdered for their sake? Wouldn’t someone want to run away from that overwhelming love?

To his shock, Gwendal responded to every one of his kisses and though they were not as strong as they should be, those arms that went around his torso held him securely in place. His eyes shot open, only to meet calm blue ones. The last kiss dragged out slowly and languidly, partially reassuring and almost as if Gwendal was trying to tell him something. And yet, he could not imagine what it could be. He had prided himself that he knew Gwendal better than anyone, but was that really true if he couldn’t even figure out a simple message in his eyes?

How pathetic he was. He wasn’t worthy.

“Gwendal?” he gasped, a tad breathlessly when they broke apart.

“Even when you’re being serious, you’re still such a dramatic man. You jump to conclusions before you even hear all the facts. What I was _going_ to say before you interrupted, was that I myself would have undoubtedly done that had the positions been reversed.” He watched in muted shock as a warm blush flooded Gwendal’s cheeks. “I’m not very good at explaining and stuff like this, but…the last three weeks I’ve been stuck here, all I’ve had time to do is think and I…”

The helpless look in Gwendal’s eyes, as he didn’t know how to say what he wanted, was all Günter needed to know. His moment of thinking that he knew nothing about Gwendal passed and he realized he really did know this man better than he knew himself. He could see all the things that Gwendal, in his cute, social awkwardness, couldn’t say. “You really are so tempting,” he murmured with a soft smile. “You love me, don’t you?”

Gwendal nodded, as if that was all he could do. He was embarrassed. Günter couldn’t help giggling and hugging the man tighter, filled with a sense of happiness that he’d never dreamed he would ever feel. He had been sure when he’d come into the room that it would end in tears of his sorrow, but now there were no tears to be found. No, not for him. He would make Gwendal cry in his own happiness. He had so many years to make up for, so much love to show and have Gwendal experience.

And he would make sure they had the time.  



	10. Chapter 10

Unfortunately there wasn’t time to savor all the changes in their relationship. The moment Gwendal got out of bed, he was swept up into the restoration and reconstruction, trying to recover from the plague. In fact, it seemed that their relationship ended up on the backburner as they were swept into work and away from each other. If they saw each other once every two days that was often the only time they met.

It was only after a month had gone by that Yuuri and those living on the castle had decided that they had at least gotten somewhere and there was no need to rush so frantically anymore. Everyone had kept a close eye on their king, as he looked paper thin after working just as hard as anyone else.

Gwendal was exhausted and he still felt the faint pulling his body from his recovery. Anissina had cornered him alone recently to tell him something that not even Gisela hadn’t seen. It had made his heart sink a little and yet he took it with the same grace as he took any bad news.

He’d never be the same as he was before he’d been infected.

Apparently, according to Anissina, thanks to one moment when his heart had stopped and yet he’d been, by a miracle, brought back, his reaction to the plague had changed. Even though it was gone, it had left irreparable damage on his body. His heart wasn’t quite as strong as it used to be, his stamina wouldn’t be quite as extensive…in truth, the way he saw it, everything he could do was shortened just a bit.

He had no intention of telling anyone and knew why Anissina had made sure he was alone before letting him know. It was a personal thing for him, something that affected only himself, and no one else needed to know. Especially Günter, since he had a guess as to how badly the Mazoku would take it. It wasn’t like he was impaired at any rate, he could still do all the things he did before, just not quite as well or as long.

Gwendal pushed himself away from his desk and stood, heading back to his chambers. Lately, Günter had taken to sleeping in his room, but there was nothing sexual about it, really. Usually when he got back, Günter was already asleep, and he couldn’t really blame the man. Gwendal was used to this level of stress and work, he did it every day, but even Günter never usually did it on a constant basis.

Or so he thought. Before the whole thing, he hadn’t really paid much attention to what Günter actually _did_ besides teach the king.

However, when he entered, Günter was awake for once. He smiled brightly upon seeing Gwendal and launched up to hug the bigger Mazoku. Happily, his arms slid around that slim waist and the hug was almost bone breaking, at least from Günter’s end.

“I missed you,” came the whispered voice in his ear and he just melted.

“I…missed you too,” he replied, not quite used to such openness. He hadn’t courted anyone for a long, long time.

“Are you tired?” And suddenly Günter was everywhere with an energy the tired Gwendal thought should be criminal in that hour and after all that work. He was pushed to sit down on the edge of the bed, his jacket and shirt stripped with surprising speed, and Günter moved to kneel behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked in curiosity, but never got a verbal answer. Instead, hands pressed into his shoulders and began to move in slow, sweeping circles, causing him to groan when the stiffness drained out of his body.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve got to talk.” Günter left a kiss at the nape of Gwendal’s neck and the bigger Mazoku shuddered just a little. “I’ve really missed you. I’m used to just going to see you whenever I wanted.”

“Regardless of what _I_ might be doing.”

Günter laughed despite his complaint. “That’s what made it so fun, among other things.”

Companionable silence descended and the atmosphere fell back to its easy relaxation. Of anyone else he’d ever met, oddly enough Günter was the one that could relax him like this with just his mere presence. He just felt so comfortable despite the fact that many would say they were complete opposites.

“Gwendal…”

He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

A kiss was his only answer, a kiss that threatened something that would leave them gasping instead of sleeping that night. Günter didn’t hide his restrained wants and it was communicated very effectively through their lips. It made him realize then just how long Günter must have restrained himself for years.

Though he would have loved to take up that offer, but he was far too tired so he only pulled away and gave Günter an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Günter, but I—”

“It’s all right, I know you’re tired.” He swore he thought he saw disappointment in those lavender eyes, but Günter proceeded to tuck him quite enthusiastically that Gwendal wondered if he’d been mistaken.

Really, one of these days, he hoped that Günter would still _tell_ how he felt instead of trying to figure it out on his own.

\---

“How’s Gwendal doing, Father?”

Günter glanced up from Yuuri’s desk as Gisela approached. Their king had taken a break and he was merely checking over what he had done for the day. Really, he was a fast learner. He would have probably already completed all, or at least most, of his studies by now if he hadn’t spent so much time trying to figure out how to skip.

“He’s fine, though just as tired as the rest of us are. His recovery is coming along nicely and it almost looks like he was never sick at all.”

Gisela’s smile was blinding in its happiness and for a moment of dread, he feared that his daughter had fallen for Gwendal. She seemed just so happy about it…He’d always been so worried about Anissina until a few years ago. And boy, had _that_ one been a surprise! “That’s wonderful! Did you tell him yet?”

“Tell him what?” he asked in perplexity.

“Tell him you love him, of course!”

 _Honestly, does **everyone** but Yuuri know?!_ Yuuri was as dense as bricks to that sort of thing. Much as loved his king, he realized that flaw abundantly clearly. Perhaps if he had more observation skills about that, some of the conflicts he’d had in the past wouldn’t have happened.

“Was it that obvious?”

“To anyone who really knew, except the one that knew you the most.” Her smile became somewhat saddened. “I love you, Father, but I also know you well enough to know I don’t know you at all. I know you love me, but there always feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. I know it was a hard decision to make, letting me take care of Gwendal, and it was the first time that I felt like you really trusted, in me and my abilities. You raised me and I watched you in everything you did in return. I could tell what you felt, though you hid it exceptionally well.”

Guilt slunk, cold and hard, down his throat and spine. “Gisela, I’m sorry—”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize. This is just who you are. I think, after all these years, that the only one you ever truly trust entirely, no matter what it is, would be Gwendal. I just wish sometimes that whatever caused you such pain to be like this, never happened or that I could have prevented it.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything and when he did, his voice was little more than a whisper. “It was long before you were born, Gisela. Before Gwendal was even born and there was nothing anyone could have done.”

“I’m sorry for bringing up such painful memories, but I just wanted to let you know that I’ll always support you. You are, after all, my only father.”

Had he really raised such an observant child, he thought as she walked away.

\---

“Gwendal, do you ever wonder what made me the way I am?”

Gwendal lifted his head from the pillow in surprise and when he saw the faintly sad expression on his partner’s face, he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away. “Not really. You’re you. Besides, it’s the past and has nothing to do with us now, does it?”

Günter smiled and promptly curled at his side, head using Gwendal’s shoulder as a pillow instead. It caused Gwendal to blush a little, as now he could feel every inch of Günter’s warmth and body next to him. But the other Mazoku was asleep, and the thought to disturb him was repulsive. Another time then perhaps.

In his ‘sleep’, Günter sighed at Gwendal’s thoughtfulness and sometimes wished he _wasn’t_ that way at times like this.  



	11. Chapter 11

The shuddering breath tickling his ear was all the warning he had before it was over.

_Two hours earlier_

The quietness of castle with their king’s departure was met with Gwendal’s approval. It had been so hectic and noisy that he had had little time to think, much less actually work. Papers had piled high on his desk in his absence and illness and his deep blue eyes stared almost glassily at the stack. He was tired, but not sleepy, which was an odd state to be in. And though it rarely happened to him, he often found that he got nothing done when he felt this way, so it was with relief that he abandoned his work after he’d received a note from a messenger.

_Come to your room._

Gwendal knew Günter’s handwriting and considering how the older Mazoku often took care of him at night, he was looking forward to another backrub or massage to relax. Summer was in full bloom and the castle, despite being stone and generally remained cooler because it absorbed the weather, couldn’t combat the heat. By the time he’d reached his room, he’d already pulled off his heavy army jacket and draped it over his arm.

What awaited him inside was not what he would have imagined. The lights were kept down low and the few candles that were lit melded in nicely with the pale, dwindling sunset outside. The entire garden must have been picked, there were so many flowers in his room and he couldn’t even see the sheets of his bed, the layer of flower petals, roses most notably and the special flower that his mother had created for him, so thick on top of it.

Before he could question what had happened, he caught sight of Günter by the window. It reminded him of that night so many months ago when they’d playacted romance, only this time, it felt warm and full of life in the room. Günter smiled at him silent, wearing only a pale silver robe and it artfully exposed one shoulder and sweetly, peach colored skin.

“Günter?”

Then he noticed that on the nearby table was a bottle of his favorite wine, with two glasses, and chocolate. He’d always had a weakness for sweets and Günter knew it. He dropped his coat onto a nearby chair carelessly and grabbed the neck of the glass bottle, smiling a little as he saw the year. Excellent as always.

Günter’s arms went around him from behind and underneath his armpits, holding him tightly. The breath on his neck caused him to shiver a little. “Dance with me?” was the simple, whispered question.

“Günter…”

“I know you keep it hidden that you can, even from your brothers, but they’re not here.” He could practically hear the smile in his lover’s voice. “Why do you do that anyway? Are you trying not to embarrass them because you do it so well with so little practice?”

Preferring not to get into his complex reasoning that probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but him, he ignored the question. “There’s no music.”

Günter took the bottle from his hand and set it down on the table before turning him around. Obviously he wasn’t taking no for an answer and if Günter wanted to dance, who was Gwendal to say no, especially looking as beautiful as he did tonight? His arm slid around the back of Günter’s waist and he watched with something close to fascination as the advisor twined their fingers together, linking each one with slow purpose. The music was in their heads and somehow, with only one or two hesitations, they fell in step with each other.

The stiffness of the formal dance position faded into something more intimate, both his arms ending up wrapping around Günter’s waist and Günter’s arms around his neck. They must have gone around the room three times already, but he was too busy being lost in those violet eyes to notice. Though he hesitated at first, not wanting to break the spell of the evening, he leaned down to kiss his beloved. It was soft and delicate, as if Günter didn’t want to break it either. Despite being engaged in sweet kisses, Günter managed to lead them over to the table and pour two cups of wine.

He looked at them closely, disappointed that the dance was over, and realized that he’d never seen the glasses before. They were intricately and beautifully carved, with designs he’d never seen. Günter noticed his staring and gently pushed him into a chair before sitting down as well…in Gwendal’s lap. “These are special ceremonial cups from my family. They’re very old.”

“What kind of ceremony?” he asked, their voices low and melding into the silence of the room. The sun had set while he’d been preoccupied.

Günter only smiled and shifted until he’d drawn up both legs to into Gwendal’s lap as well and faced him, sipping his wine. It caused Gwendal to swallow quietly, as the position afforded him quite a lovely view of Günter’s flawless legs. Their eyes connected and after that, he forgot about everything except that intense but loving gaze and their conversation.

If Gwendal was asked again later what they talked about, he wouldn’t be able to answer them. They weren’t important, really. They talked about nothing related to Shin Makoku, nor the future. Instead, he thought they talked about the past, things that were so funny with age rather than how mortifying they’d been at the time. Through it, Günter didn’t move from his spot on Gwendal’s lap, even long after Gwendal’s leg had gone to sleep under the weight.

What he did remember was when the wine bottle was over half empty and their lips were meeting with increasing frequency and length. Günter encouraged his hands to wander and they slid up the man’s legs and disappeared inside the robe. Much to Gwendal’s satisfaction, Günter gave a quiet little shudder when his fingers grazed over his lover’s behind lightly. It was obvious that this had been planned, since he found no resistance in the form of clothing.

Günter had worn nothing beneath the robe.

While he was vaguely stunned, Günter slipped off him and literally dragged him to the bed, where they fell down in a whoosh of flower petals. Günter looked so beautiful with his hair mixing into the red and occasionally white rose petals that he couldn’t help spending an unreasonable amount of time just staring at him and not paying attention to his lover’s hands until his shirt was being dragged over his head and tossed to the side. When he raised his eyebrow at the quick, no-nonsense action, Günter shrugged with an impish grin and didn’t look at all repentant.

The petals were nice and cool, a breeze coming in from the open window strong enough to ruffle them around the room just slightly. Gwendal couldn’t help dragging out each kiss until by the time he parted, he was always gasping and his groin was hot with desire. Günter had made short work of his pants and surprised Gwendal when he was suddenly on his back, naked and underneath that still erotically clothed advisor.

“Günter, what—?”

Günter shushed him with a finger on his lips and then kissed him so deeply it left him dizzy. For someone usually so sharp and attentive, he wasn’t paying much attention beyond where those lips were going. They nipped and soothed his nipples, paying an unseemly amount of attention to them, until he was groaning with both satisfaction and disappointment. It felt so good, but he his erection was nearly weeping with desire and it was hard to think. Günter wouldn’t let him say anything either. Every time he opened his mouth, a tongue would push its way in and prevent him from uttering anything other than pleased sounds.

By the time Günter had taken pity on him and crawled between his legs, he was nearly out of his mind with frustration. Günter didn’t seem to care if he spoke now, but by now, the only thing that came out of his mouth was Günter’s name anyway. That warm, wet, and limber tongue encircled his erection, teasing and lapping at his precum in a way that was driving him insane. A hand twined down into those lavender strands and he swore he felt Günter smile.

If he thought that it had felt good with Günter’s tongue, it was nothing when he was fully enclosed in that wet, suckling heat. The older Mazoku was taking his time, drawing things out, just as he had the dance, the drink, and their conversation. If Gwendal had ever had to put into words what he thought the perfect lovemaking would be, this would be it. And damn if Günter didn’t know it too. How he had figured it out, Gwendal would never know. He’d never uttered the words in his life, never wrote them down. This was just everything he’d ever wanted. Gwendal hated rushed, quick sex, preferring to savor in his own time and pace.

“Günter…” He couldn’t tell if he groaned or growled, but apparently Günter got the picture, because he sat up with a grin. Their kisses now were hot and heavy and it was _nothing_ in comparison to what had happened a few months ago. Despite thinking he was wrong, for all the fact that Günter was taking it slowly, he was a very passionate lover, and a very needy one. When the advisor rolled them over again until Gwendal was pressing their erections intimately, he thrust against the friction, slow but hard.

Gwendal hissed lightly at how good it felt and leaned in even more, spreading Günter’s legs and deciding in a fit of passion to leave Günter’s robe on. It made him seem so erotic, the tie barely holding on now, but he didn’t want to untie. Just the illusion of him being dressed was doing wild things to his insides. His hand fumbled to the side, where it hit his dresser and almost knocked over what he was looking for onto the floor. The bottle was cool and he spared a distracted glance to see it was lavender skin cream.

He smiled a little and coated it on his fingers, not hesitant anymore to touch and slide inside. It was hot, almost like a wildfire in the middle of a dense forest, and he couldn’t tell if it was himself or Günter who groaned when he wiggled his fingers around. For as desperately as he wanted to take his lover, though, he held off to make sure there would be as little pain as possible. Even when Günter gave a complaining moan and gasp, he only slid his third finger in.

Gwendal licked off the slowly beading sweat on Günter’s skin, though whether it was from the warm night or their activities, he wasn’t really sure. Paying his lover back, he licked and suckled sweetly on those erect nipples, but never bit. He wasn’t the kind of lover that liked things painful, especially for the person beneath him.

“Gwendal…” Günter muttered, for the first time since it had begun, “it’s all right, so put it in.”

“You sure?”

Günter shuddered at the kiss on his neck. “Very, _very_ sure.”

Trusting Günter to know better than he did, at least at this point in time, his pulled his fingers out to put more lotion on them and coat himself liberally. It was a bit embarrassing, as Günter had taken to watching with pleasure-dazed eyes. When he pushed himself gently inside though, Günter wasn’t seeing much of anything. He’d let his eyes close, legs spreading wider and Gwendal watched him take deep, calming breaths so he didn’t suddenly clench up.

It made Gwendal wonder if Günter had done this before, but then decided he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to know about the older Mazoku’s lovers, who he might be comparing Gwendal too.

“Move, please move,” Günter whimpered and arched his hips up in a way that caused Gwendal to gasp. Günter was tight, almost unbearably so, and yet the heat eclipsed that quickly. It had been a very long time since he’d done this and he had forgotten just how good it felt. It felt even better with Günter.

He did as instructed, pulling back until barely his tip remained inside before thrusting in again. This time, instead of the quiet seduction Günter displayed earlier, he heard piercing cries. Fingernails dug into his back as he picked up the pace and really, Günter had an incredible set of lungs. He was suddenly very glad their king had decided on the impromptu trip, because he would not like to think of the ensuing chaos if Yuri ran in, thinking there was trouble.

“Harder, Gwendal!”

The pleas had given way to orders now and Gwendal couldn’t help but grin at it. Günter was losing his composure. He was watching it fall apart piece by piece, some the size of pebbles and others the size of mortars, all disappearing until he was sure he was seeing the unprotected man hidden beneath his harder-than-steel shell. That man was beautiful, so free with his true emotions, feeling it so much and letting someone else see that.

Flower petals had somehow managed to get scattered all over Günter’s body, so when he ran a hand down over the man’s trembling stomach, he couldn’t tell what was the baby softness of Günter’s skin or not. Gwendal let his fingers explore down farther, slipping around and pulling off a petal that had fallen on his lover’s wet erection and was now sticky with it.

Günter surprised him when he surged upwards, suddenly changing their positions and sitting in Gwendal’s lap. “Deeper! Go deeper!”

Gwendal couldn’t imagine why he’d ever thought Günter’s yelling was annoying. He couldn’t live without it now, didn’t want to think about making love with him and not hearing that sweet voice raised in even higher decibels with pleasure. His hands gripped Günter’s hips and he did as he was ordered, pushing up just as he pulled them down. He could feel Günter’s trembles all the way down the man’s spine and he knew, with how wonderful that clenching was around him that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Arms wrapped around his neck again and he could feel the fingernails pressing into his back once more. There were no doubt scores of redmarks, as he could feel them drag all the way up his spine and eliciting a shiver from him. He pushed in harder, but not hard enough to hurt, and dove them back into the pile of petals and pillows.

The shuddering breath tickling his ear was all the warning he had before it was over. Günter’s release splattered over his stomach and caused an extra slickness to their movements that not even their heavy layer of sweat could. Without warning, he was clenched tightly, unable to leave, and never wanting to. Günter was doing it on purpose, he knew, especially with how he was rotating his hips just so…over and over again…

What first started out with Günter’s name became a long, drawn out moan of his climax, spilling his seed inside and collapsing down on his lover, not even having enough energy at the moment to even pull out. Günter didn’t seem to have him leave in any hurry either, as his hold became gentle but firm, telling him to stay.

“What ceremony were those cups for?” he asked abruptly.

“Consummation.” At his look, Günter laughed and shushed him with a kiss. “No, they didn’t have a spell on them. They were are for ceremony only, usually allowed to any couple married from the von Kleist name on the wedding night.”

Much to both their regrets, Gwendal pulled himself out and collapsed next to Günter with a sigh. He’d get up and get a rag to clean them in a minute. Right now, he felt too good to do so. “Did you have to pick the _whole_ garden?”

“I didn’t. _He_ did.”

Gwendal blinked in confusion at the emphasis. “Who did?”

“Your favorite wraith. When I was in the garden and explained what I was thinking about, he picked them all for me.” Günter chuckled at his look. “He does like you, you know, but you’re just so fun to tease, he said, that he can’t help but get you lost.”

Gwendal was about to sit up, but noticed the bowl of water and a rag nearby, subtly hidden in the shadows, but near enough so that he could get it without getting up. Günter really had thought of everything. “Don’t make me jealous.”

“Are you jealous of a wraith?” Günter teased and held him from behind, kissing his shoulder.

“You’re nice to everyone.”

Günter only laughed and pulled him back down to bed to sleep before he’d gotten them cleaned.

**End**


	12. Chapter 12

If he had spent an entire year trying to figure out how he’d like everyone to find out about his relationship with Günter, he STILL would not have chosen what actually happened. Having Yuuri come in, thankfully sans entourage, and seeing them both naked and in bed, was certainly not how he would have wanted it. Even if Yuuri immediately apologized and slammed the doors shut, he knew it was all over. Günter, awoken by the crash of the door shutting, blinked sleepy eyes and promptly curled back at his side like a baby cat.

No help from that corner, obviously. It wasn’t particularly surprising, all things considered, as he had worn Günter out completely. _“The young are so vigorous”_ indeed, he thought, remembering his lover’s comment when they’d finally stopped for the night.

With a sigh, he crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants and loose robe. Much to his surprise, Yuuri was waiting for him in the outer room, looking uncomfortable. He jumped a little when he heard Gwendal’s footfalls and blushed brilliantly. “Gwendal, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t wake Günter up.” Yuuri’s mouth snapped shut and he looked even more embarrassed. Taking pity on the man, he sighed and slowly sat down in the nearest chair of his sitting room, glancing at the closed bedroom door. His thighs were shaking a little. He hadn’t done any sort of that activity for so long and having done it so many times…he was still exhausted. “Was there something you wanted, Your Majesty?”

“I just wanted to know how you were doing.” There was a pregnant pause as Yuuri shifted on his feet and obviously looked everywhere but at the exposed skin beneath Gwendal’s robe. Looking down, he noticed the sheer amount of hickies and loving bite marks left behind in Günter’s…enthusiasm. “How long…have you two…you know?”

Gwendal shifted a little, debating how to answer. His king had asked him a question and he was duty-bound to answer; however, it was also a question about his personal life, which he was not fond of sharing to anyone. Personal was exactly that: personal. “How long have Günter and I been together?” Yuuri nodded, obviously relieved that he didn’t have to elaborate further. Again, Gwendal took his time to answer that, because it wasn’t the easiest response. After last night, it had almost felt that he and Günter had been unconsciously courting for more years than he could count and at the same time, it felt so abrupt and yet comfortable.

“It’s a difficult question to answer, Your Majesty.” He watched as Yuuri sat down, intrigued despite himself, as he listened. “Günter and I…we have a very long history together, ever since I was a child. I’m so…used to him that I can’t imagine him not being here. Whenever I look over my shoulder, I’m not surprised to see a hint of white or lavender. We were friends before lovers, and he was someone that I’d come to trust above all else. You could say we’ve shared just about every experience together except for things that are left purely for couples.”

This was getting to be harder than he’d thought. He wasn’t used to explaining things of this nature, especially to someone who was still, basically, a child. Someone who still didn’t fully understand the world he ruled. “I’d…never thought of Günter that way, to tell the absolute truth.”

“There must have been a turning point, though, right?”

It almost seemed like Yuuri was asking this for a specific reason, as if he was trying to find out some truth he still didn’t understand. It made him take pity on the young man, as he was still a boy and probably in the midst of noticing such things as romance by now. “You could say so. I don’t think that things would have changed were it not for our trip out to Hertzog’s manor. We…” He shifted uncomfortably, not really wishing to mention some of the details that he’d wanted to hide, but forced himself to continue. “We decided that the best course of action was to fake being lovers. There were a few incidents, but no overwhelming incident that suddenly made me rethink everything we’d ever been. I guess it started with my observation of his behavior and it never stopped when we got back. I paid closer attention to him and just started thinking about him in different lights.”

“When did you tell him what you felt? It was you that took the first step, right?”

“Actually no,” he replied, much to Yuuri’s surprise. “Günter told me how he felt when he came back after the plague had been stopped and gave me time to really think it out. When I realized the pangs that I’d felt, the tightness in my chest at odd times, when I thought about him was love, it didn’t really feel like such a big thing anymore. What I had felt was abrupt at the time of his confession was no longer abrupt. In fact, I started to feel surprised that I’d BEEN surprised by it, as if it had been there all along, but I’d never recognized it. It was…natural.”

He had nothing more to say and shifted again as Yuuri merely sat in silence and observed him. His expression was blank, almost, not like the teenager he was, and he began to wonder if somehow he had answered a question his king had not been able to figure out how to ask. “Why did you want to know?”

Gwendal’s question seemed to drag him out of whatever had caught him and Yuuri blushed deeply. “I just…well, you know…” An eloquent eyebrow told his king that no, he didn’t know. The teenager sighed at having to explain something that he obviously didn’t know how to. “I’ve just been wondering about a lot of things lately and I was curious.”

Something about his expression said that wasn’t all there was to it, but Gwendal wasn’t one to pry, especially about such sensitive matters. “Is that all, Your Majesty?”

“Huh?”

“Is that all? It’s really quite early and I’ve…had a long night.” Automatically Yuuri’s eyes dropped to the kiss marks on his neck and chest that could be seen and they both turned an interesting shade of red.

“Uh…yeah, I’ll, um, go now.”

His liege beat a hasty retreat and he was about to get up when he felt soothing hands on his shoulders. Lavender hair surrounded him as Günter leaned down to kiss the side of his forehead from behind, and whispered in his ear, “That was quite beautiful, Gwendal. Really, you’re so adorable.”

Gwendal cleared his throat, willing his blush away and turned around when the heat left his back. Günter smiled at him and crooked a finger as he backed into the bedroom and slowly began to untie his belt. “There are many years to make up for, love.”

“Are we planning on making them up for it in one day?”

Günter smirked. “We can’t get it all done in one day, but I’d certainly like to try.”

Though he tried to appear stern, he couldn't help the instinctive smile on his lips as he stood up and closed the bedroom door behind him.

**END**  



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